


Strangers

by Auburn_Valkyrie



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Will update tags as they come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-09-22 03:26:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9580391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auburn_Valkyrie/pseuds/Auburn_Valkyrie
Summary: A young woman wakes up in the back of a cart with no memory of herself or her past. Taken to a small village to be executed, she meets another woman who knows who she is, but they are separated when a dragon attacks. Forced to flee for her life, this young woman must make her way through Skyrim and try to figure out who she is and why she has no memories.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first story that I have posted in years. It's been on my mind for a while now, and has grown into something of a monster. But I am very pleased with the progress that I have made with it, and would like to share it with others who may also enjoy it. This prologue is bery typical and short, but trust me that the chapters themselves are much more detailed. FYI: this first installment is already over thirty chapters long which is why I decided to post it.  
> I hope you have enjoyed this little snippet and regardless of reviews and such, I will post the first chapter within a few days.

Prologue

She had the strangest sensation of being rocked. Though the only thing pleasant about it was that she was leaning up against something warm and somewhat fluffy. The hard surface she was seated on was uncomfortable and wasn’t doing her bum any favors. With a soft groan, she opened her eyes. The light that greeted her caused her head to ache something awful and she hissed in pain. Attempting to raise her hands to her face, she immediately found that her wrists were bound tightly together with a rough length of rope.

What in the world was this?

Suddenly alert, the young woman jolted upright, eyes going to whatever she had been leaning against. She was not expecting a pair of intense blue-green eyes to be staring back at her. A man was seated next to her, his brows furrowed as he studied her intently. His hair was dirty blonde with braids on either side of his temples that kept most of it from hanging in his face. A length of dirty cloth was bound tight around his face, covering his mouth. It made her wonder why she wasn’t gagged as well.

Another unwelcome flash of pain tore through her head, making her flinch and close her eyes as she raised her bound hands to her forehead.

“So, you’re finally awake.”

The voice was familiar, as were the words spoken but the headache she currently had was preventing her from focusing. So, she looked up at the speaker.  
The man was smiling softly at her, his blue eyes looking tired, wisps of blonde hair hanging in them. He wore what looked to be a cuirass with blue clothe wound about it, his short chainmail sleeves showing well-toned arms. Was he a soldier or something?

“You were caught in that Imperial ambush like the rest of us, eh?” he asked simply. Not waiting for her to answer, he looked to the man seated next to him. “And that horse thief as well.”

What? An ambush? She looked back and forth between the two men, trying to fight the pain in her head. What was going on? Where was she?

A quick glance around let her know that they were in a cart being pulled along by a sturdy looking draft horse. A man was seated at the head of the cart, his helmeted head facing forward as he let the horse plod along at its own pace. They were on a rough dirt road with trees on either side, and she could just make out mountains through the thick foliage.

“Damn, Stormcloaks,” the named thief grumbled, bringing her attention back to him. He was glaring at the man seated next to him. “Skyrim was fine until you showed up. The Empire was nice and lazy. If it wasn’t for you I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now.”

Skyrim? Empire? Hammerfell? The names seemed familiar to her but she couldn’t fathom why. Another wave of pain pulsed through her head, and she bit back a groan, going back to holding her head in her hands. She kept her eyes on the two men before her though, curious as to what else they would say.

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, eh?” the blue-eyed man said with a halfhearted smile.

The thief huffed and shifted his gaze to her, but his look wasn’t very nice. A soft grunt from the man next to her caught his attention and he looked to him.

“What’s with him?”

“Hold your tongue, thief!” the blonde man snapped at him. “You’re addressing Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim!”

The thief looked shocked at this statement. “Ulfric Stormcloak,” he said in disbelief. “The leader of the rebellion? Then that means… Oh, gods. Where are they taking us?”

“I don’t know,” the blonde man said. “But Sovngarde awaits.”

The young woman’s head swam and she turned away from the men, staring down at the floor of the cart.

What the hell was going on here? Why did all the things they were saying sound so familiar? Who were these men? More importantly, why was she here with them?

A sudden terror gripped her when she realized she could not recall her name.

Who… who was she?

*~*~*~*


	2. Unbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do I really need a summary for this?
> 
> Regardless, I forgot to provide a disclaimer in the prologue. Skyrim is the property of Bethesda, and any characters, events and so forth are theirs. Maurice and Kamama belong to me in that they are myself and my best friend. Yes. This is your typical 'get dropped into a video game' story. But it is a very slow burn. I've been working on this for the last few months and am super excited about it. This is why I love Skyrim. The stories and such are so rich that it sends my creativity on turbo. Just be patient, People. I will do my best not to disappoint.

Chapter One

The ride in the cart was short as they soon reached a small village surrounded with sturdy looking stone walls and tall towers amidst the houses. But she paid it all little mind.

Instead she busied herself with trying to remember, well, anything. But it was all a blank. A big, dark blank that seemed to stretch for forever in her mind. The initial shock of not knowing her name had worn off, but the terror of not knowing was still in the back of her mind.

What had happened to make her forget? The discovery of a large bump on the back of her head was an indicator that she may have been hit. And judging by the pain still throbbing through her head, it had been a hard blow. Could it have been enough to cause her to lose her memory?

“Get those prisoners out of the carts!” a female voice suddenly shouted.

She looked up at that, noticing that they had stopped.

“Let’s go,” the blonde man across from her suddenly spoke, giving her a half-hearted smile. “Don’t want to keep the gods waiting, now do we?”

A muted nod was all she gave him. How was she to respond to such a thing? It was obvious from his tone that he expected this to be their last day. A sudden shiver passed through her. It seemed such a cruel thing when she couldn’t even remember her own name.

She couldn’t help but notice how the blonde man looked her over as she stood. Obviously he was not expecting her to look the way she did, her clothes showing off her trim waist and the shape of her legs. She was aware that her hair hung down her back in a thick tangle, some of it falling over her shoulder as she shuffled along to the end of the cart. She would have felt flattered if the situation had not been so dire. Then again, she herself didn’t even know what she looked like.

Instead she followed the other two men off the cart.

The man with the thick fur about his shoulders, Ulfric, turned back when his feet hit the ground. He held out his bound hands, steadying her as she got down out of the cart. Her hair swept forward over her shoulder in a thick wave, falling over his arm as he helped her. The scant sunlight glinted off it, making her stare at the dark auburn color that shifted to golden-blonde at the ends. Was that natural?

A soft grunt made her look up at the man who was a good head taller than herself. He was also looking at her hair, brows furrowed as if in deep thought. Then his eyes shifted to hers, the blue-green irises making her catch her breath.

“Kamama!”

The sudden outburst made her jump and pull her hands from Ulfric’s much larger and warmer ones. She turned to her left, eyes landing on a girl around her height. The girl was gazing at her intently, tears shining in her blue eyes. Her hair was a bright shade of cerulean that faded to blonde at her roots, making her stand out amongst the rest of the people.

“Are you all right?” the girl asked, shuffling forward. Her hands were bound as well, but that didn’t stop her from lightly touching her fingertips to her arm.

She stared long and hard at the blue haired girl, something telling her that she should know her. But she couldn’t recall from where. “I’m sorry,” she said haltingly, ignoring the seemingly constant pain in her head. “But… do I know you?”

The girl looked shocked, drawing her hands back. “What?” she asked. “How can you not know who I am?”

That was one of the many questions she wanted the answer to. She took in a shaky breath, brows furrowing as she racked her brain for something, anything that would shine some light on all that was happening. But nothing came.

Lightly shaking her head lest she increase her headache, she replied, “I-I don’t know. I can’t even remember-”

“Step forward when your name is called,” someone suddenly called out, drawing the two females’ attention to a tall man dressed in light leather armor. In one hand he held a ledger and in the other a thin piece of what looked to be charcoal. “Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.”

The man who had helped her off the cart stepped forward, surprising her. He held a title? She was not sure what a ‘jarl’ was, but the title rang with such resilient authority it left one wanting to know more about him. At least for her it did.

“Kamama…”

She looked back to the girl beside her, noticing the worried gleam in her eyes.

“It’s me. Maurice.”

“Ralof of Riverwood.”

The blonde man who had spoken to her before stepped forward, taking his place amongst the others already standing about in a rough circle.

“Maurice?” she repeated uncertainly. Why did that name seem so familiar?

“Lokir of Rorikstead.”

“You can’t do this!” the thief cried as he stepped forward. “I’m not with these Stormcloaks!”

“Shut up!” a woman dressed head to toe in military garb barked at him.

Suddenly the thief jumped at her, knocking her to the ground before he took off at a dead run. “You’re not gonna kill me!” he yelled in desperation.

“Archers!” the armored woman shouted as she scrambled to her feet.

The twang of bowstrings could be heard and the thief fell to the ground, two arrows sticking out of his back.

“Anyone else feel like running?”

The two girls stared in disbelief at the scene, Maurice taking in a shuddering breath. They looked to one another again, blue eyes clashing with dark brown.

“Yes,” Maurice affirmed, continuing their conversation. She nodded her head somewhat as if to reassure herself. “My name is Maurice.” Her cerulean hair shifted somewhat, partially covering one of her eyes. She pushed it back furiously, showing that the side of her head was shaved. “We’re… we’re friends. Best friends. Have been for a while. How can you not remember that?”

Was that true? They were friends? Why couldn’t she remember then?

“And my name is… It’s… Kamama?”

“Yes!”

The desperation in the reply made her draw back somewhat.

“You! Standing next to the girl with blue hair!”

She looked back to the man with the ledger, his gaze focused on her.

“Step forward,” he said.

With one last look at Maurice, she stepped towards him, stopping just a few feet from the man.

“Who are you?” he asked gently, earning a frown from the armored woman next to him.

“Don’t go acting soft just because she’s a woman, Hadvar,” the woman growled. “She’s a criminal, remember?

“A criminal?” Kamama found herself saying indignantly. “On what grounds? Because, honestly, I don’t remember anything before waking up in that cart.”

The man, Hadvar, looked genuinely surprised by her statement, but the woman snorted.

“As if,” the woman went on. “Don’t think by playing at amnesia that you’ll get off easy. You were caught alongside the Stormcloaks. Guilty by association.”

“Association?” Annoyance flared up in her chest, but Kamama did her best to push it down. “Since when is that a valid justification for imprisoning someone? For throwing them on a cart with others to go to an execution?”

She remembered when they first entered the small village, how the thief had lamented his situation, praying to the gods to save him. And the blonde man, Ralof, his embittered utterance of it being ‘the end of the line.’

“Enough!” the military woman barked. “Hadvar! Mark her name and send her off!”

Hadvar sighed deeply. “Yes, captain.” His dark eyes focused on Kamama once more. “Your name, prisoner?” he said in a deadpan tone.

She almost had half a mind to tell him off, that she wouldn’t give her name to someone who obviously saw that she wasn’t a part of whatever the Stormcloaks were doing. But after staring at him for a few moments and seeing the genuine regret there, she relented.

“I… I think it’s… Kamama.”

His eyes immediately went to his list whilst the captain huffed and crossed her arms.

“So you claim you can’t remember anything and yet you still give us a name.”

“Only because I told her it!”

Maurice had stalked up then, standing next to Kamama and glaring defiantly at the armored woman. The captain’s hand immediately went to the sword at her hip.

“And my name is Maurice,” the cerulean haired girl added, glancing at Hadvar. “Though I don’t know why it should even matter.”

“Watch your tongue, prisoner!” the captain snarled. “Another word and you’ll be the first to lose your head!”

“Captain,” Hadvar interrupted, eyes shifting from the ledger, to Kamama and then to the military woman. “They’re not on the list. What do we do?”

“Forget the list!” she snapped. “They both go to the block!”

“Why you-”

Kamama put out her bound hands, stopping Maurice from going after the woman. “Leave her be. She’s obviously either on a power trip or it’s that time of the month. Well, maybe both.”

Maurice sniggered at that, but still glared at the woman heatedly. She followed after Kamama as they made their way to the other prisoners standing in a rough circle around the base of a tower. Situated in front of it were a few soldiers, a woman in yellow robes, and what was obviously their executioner with his axe at the ready.

“Ulfric Stormcloak.”

The two women looked to the man who had spoken, his military garb finer than the rest. His age was apparent what with his short cropped grey hair and the subtle age lines on his face. He stood facing the man with the gag about his mouth, a condescending frown on his lips.

“There are some here in Helgen who call you a hero,” the man went on, crossing his arms over his armored chest. “But a hero wouldn’t use a power such as the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.”

“What?” Maurice breathed next to her.

Ulfric made a sound of indignation, shifting slightly where he stood.

“You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!”

A sudden sound echoed from afar, but it was enough to make many look about in confusion.

“What was that?” one of the soldiers asked.

“Nothing,” the man who was obviously in charge replied, though his eyes still scanned the skies. “Carry on.”

“Yes, General Tullius!” the female captain saluted and turned towards the yellow clad woman. “Read them their last rites.”

The robed woman nodded, stepping forward with her arms outstretched. “As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines-”

“For the love of Talos, shut up already!” one of the Stormcloak soldiers barked as he stepped forward. “Let’s get this over with! I haven’t got all morning!”

“As you wish,” the woman huffed, clearly affronted by his interruption.

Kamama smiled at the display, respect for the man facing his death so fearlessly swelling up in her breast.

The Stormcloak now stood at the block, a satisfied smile on his face as he looked around at his captors. “My ancestors are smiling down on me,” he said defiantly as he knelt, resting his head on the chopping block. “Can you Imperials say the same?”

Maurice looked away as the headsman let his axe fall, but Kamama kept her eyes forward, watching as the man’s head was cut from his body. A bright gush of blood washed over the wooden block, staining it and the dirt around it.

“You Imperial bastards!” a woman cried.

“Justice!” yelled a man.

“As fearless in death as he was in life,” Ralof lamented proudly from his spot next to the two women.

Kamama turned her head towards him, but her eyes immediately locked onto Ulfric’s who was staring at her. His intense gaze held her and it seemed as if he wanted to say something, but what that could be she couldn’t possibly fathom. Why would he be looking at her? Maybe it was just a coincidence, the both of them looking to Ralof at the same time and their eyes meeting.

“Next prisoner!” the captain yelled. Her gaze fell on Kamama and she pointed at her. “That one! The woman who claims to have amnesia!”

The sound from before came again, sounding more like a roar and closer this time.

“There it is again,” Hadvar breathed, his eyes searching the skies.

“I said next prisoner!” the captain growled.

“We didn’t do anything!” Maurice suddenly shouted, taking a step forward. “This isn’t fair! And you know it!”

The captain drew her sword. “Shut up!”

“Easy there, Maurice,” Kamama found herself saying as she slowly tore her gaze away from the Jarl of Windhelm.

“But Kamama-”

She smiled at the girl, catching her off guard. “It’s all right,” she said lightly. “Besides, life isn’t always fair. Maybe it’s for the best what with me not remembering anything.” She took a few steps forward. Then she laughed lightly, though her eyes began to burn with tears. “Thanks for at least giving me back my name… and for telling me that we’re… friends.”

“Kamama…”

Silently she walked up to the block, eyes skimming over the decapitated Stormcloak they had carelessly pushed off to the side. She felt the female captain push at her shoulder, forcing her to her knees before planting a foot in her back. A soft grunt escaped her lips when her cheek forcefully met the chopping block, still slightly warm from the fresh blood on it.

Was it really a blessing that she couldn’t remember anything? What if she had a family somewhere, loved ones who were wondering where she was and if she was all right?

She could hear a sound, like a soft sob, from where Maurice and the other prisoners stood, but her face was turned towards the stone tower and the man standing there.

Her heart began to beat wildly as she watched the headsman ready his axe. He seemed almost eager to carry on with his task, a twisted smile on his lips which was all she could see due to the mask he wore.

And then she saw it.

“What in Oblivion is that?!”

Kamama’s mouth opened in awe and horror as she watched the pitch-black creature swoop down on the village. It landed heavily on top of the tower, the stone structure shuddering under its weight and making the ground shake. The headsman lost his balance, dropping his axe as he fell to the ground. He looked over his shoulder and balked at the sight of the creature, scrambling to his feet before running away.

“Dragon!” a woman screamed over the shouts of the Imperials and the panicked cries of the villagers.

It suddenly opened its maw, razor sharp teeth revealed as it let out a terrible shout. The skies dimmed, tinged with red as fire began to rain down on the village. 

Kamama stayed where she was, slowly lifting her head from the block, gazing wide eyed at the dragon perched atop the tower. It seemed to glare back at her, its red eyes glowing with unchecked malice. Once again its jaws opened and another shout emitted from it, and Kamama took in a breath before it hit her full force, knocking her back.

The back of her skull hit the ground, causing her head to burst with renewed pain and dizziness, and she couldn’t keep the agonized cry from leaving her lips. Images swam in her vision, bizarre things that she felt were familiar but she couldn’t place them. She thought she saw Maurice with her cerulean hair and blue eyes standing behind what looked like a counter of sorts, but the pain kept her from focusing.

Hands were suddenly on her, gripping her arms and hauling her to her feet.

“Come on!” the person shouted, unaware of the effect his loud voice had on her pain filled head. “This is our chance! Let’s go!”

She allowed the man to pull her forward, her steps hurried and uncertain. All around them were screams and shouts, the dragon roaring overhead as they made their way through the village.

“Get inside!”

She was roughly pushed, careening forward into what she assumed to be a table. The pain of her hips hitting the wood brought her out of her throbbing head, and she did her best to shake off the whirlwind of images.

“By the Nine!” she heard someone say breathlessly. “Was that really a dragon? Like in the old legends?”

“Legends don’t burn down villages.”

A chill went up her spine at the sound of the second voice, and Kamama looked over her shoulder. Ulfric was standing beside the now barred door, his hands unbound, and the gag gone from his mouth, showing his strong features and the well-trimmed beard he possessed. His eyes shifted to her when he noticed her staring, and that same intense look from before came back, his brows furrowing slightly.

A loud roar echoed outside, the stone structure around them trembling.

“We need to move now!” Ulfric suddenly yelled.

“This way!” Ralof called to her and she stared at him indignantly.

She took a few steps toward him though, lifting her still bound wrists. “Could you cut me loose first?” she asked. “It would be so much easier to run for my life if I wasn’t still–aie!!”

The structure shook once again, Ralof catching her arm when she stumbled forward.

“Nevermind. Let’s go.”  
*~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel I should provide some sort of end note. I wasn't expecting any reviews, and even now I don't. But as I mentioned before, this is a relatively slow burning story. I didn't want to rush through events and wanted to build on the characters I'm presenting to you. Eventually I will start writing from the point of view of actual in-game characters, which is challenging but exciting at the same time. I won't give a specific time when I will add the next chapter. I'm fine with finally sharing this story.


	3. Good Friends Are Hard to Come By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess I'm not a fan of summarizing my chapters. I don't want to accidentally give away anything. But as always, Skyrim and all its characters and storyline is the property of Bethesda. I'm just having fun and letting my imagination go wild.

Chapter Two

“Wait!”

Ralof suddenly took hold of her wrist, pulling her back and into his chest. She went still at the sudden contact, not sure what to do with herself. But then she heard it.

A roar sounded overhead followed by the flapping of wings, and the two of them hunkered down near some brush. Both looked to the skies, the pitch-black form of the dragon soaring over them.

Kamama took in an involuntary breath, her mind going back to when she had last come face to face with that horrible creature. It had landed right in front of her when she had been running through the burning village, the young woman trying to make her way into the fortified keep. Once more it had stared at her, its demonic red eyes boring into her very soul it seemed.

Then it had spoken, its voice rumbling in some language she could not comprehend before it opened its mouth wide to issue forth a gout of flame.

Thank goodness Ralof had been nearby to grab her and pull her into the keep before she was burnt to a cinder.

A sudden sigh of relief came from the man she was still pressed up against. “I think it’s gone for good now,” Ralof breathed right next to her ear, unaware of the effect he was having on the smaller woman.

Kamama did her best not to think of how warm his body was next to her. She could smell him, his musky scent all around her and it was making her very warm and fuzzy on the inside. The natural smell of a man was always a weakness of hers. Though how she knew that due to her lack of memory was beyond her.

But Ralof was definitely all male.

Quickly she pulled herself away from him, mindful not to put pressure on her throbbing ankle.

“Are you all right?” Ralof asked, noticing her discomfort. “It hasn’t gotten worse, has it?”

“No, not really,” she replied. She shot him a hard look. “Though in retrospect, I can honestly say that this–” she motioned to her ankle “–is all your fault.”

He looked perplexed by her statement, blue eyes wide. “M-my fault?”

“Yes!” Kamama found herself almost shouting. “It happened when you insisted on me jumping from that tower and through the roof of that burning building! I ended up twisting it somehow! I told you to cut my hands loose but noooo! I had to jump from a building and then hobble through a burning village with a dragon raging all throughout it! With my hands still bound!!”

“Ah…”

The man seemed at a loss for what to say, his brows furrowed and mouth slightly open.

Kamama immediately felt bad for yelling at him, shoulders dropping slightly as she turned away. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to go off on you like that. It’s just…”

“It’s all right.”

She looked back at him, seeing a slight but apologetic smile on his face.

“There was a lot going on, and I guess I wasn’t thinking straight,” he explained. He bowed his head to her, looking at the ground. “I’m sorry for what happened.”

A heavy sigh fell from her lips, and she smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it. At least we made it out alive, eh?”

A smile was on his face when he looked back up. “Yeah.”

“So, what now?”

He shrugged at that. “Well, Riverwood isn’t too far from here.” He seemed to perk up at his own words. “It’s actually where I was born and grew up. My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill there. I’m sure she’ll help us out.”

Fancy that. They just so happen to be near his hometown.

Kamama’s smile widened. “All righty then. Shall we get a move on?”

“Absolutely. Here.” He came close to her, offering his arm for her to lean on. “I’d ask if you’d be all right with me carrying you, but–”

“But that’d be too much,” Kamama cut him off. “We’re both tired. Besides, I don’t think it’s broken so a little pressure here and there won’t cause any lasting damage.”

He nodded at that but slung one of her arms over his shoulder, his own arm going around her waist for added support. “Let’s get going then.”

They started off down the steep hill, making their way through brush and such until a dirt road came into view. The going was a bit easier after that, but Kamama still let out a soft grunt of discomfort every once in a while when she applied too much pressure on her foot. They were silent as they walked, Ralof keeping an eye out for anything that might suddenly come up on them.

At one point Ralof let her go when a chorus of howls resounded through the air, the soldier drawing his bow and taking down a couple of wolves that tried to ambush them. Kamama hung back, watching as he cautiously looked them over to make sure they were dead. Then he came back to her, resuming his previous role as her living crutch.

“Ya know,” Kamama said after a few minutes of silence. “I could walk on my own if I had a good solid branch to lean on.”

“Aye,” he replied. “But let’s not waste time trying to find one. Better to get to Riverwood as soon as possible.” He looked to the horizon as he said that, taking in the sun slowly making its way down towards the mountains in the distance.

She would have sighed in exasperation, but held it back. The last thing she wanted to do was offend him with her sudden need to be independent. Still, she didn’t like being treated like a cripple, and the differences in their heights was somewhat annoying. She was practically hanging off his shoulder!

They walked in silence once more, Kamama letting her eyes stray around, taking in the surroundings. The land was wild with trees and brush of all sorts, the terrain itself rocky and uneven. There were mountains everywhere it seemed, some close while others were mere outlines in the distance. It was beautiful to look at, and Kamama found herself smiling slightly. It was a welcome change from the chaos that had been Helgen.

An involuntary shudder passed through her at the thought of her near execution. She was almost thankful for the dragon’s appearance though it too had nearly ended her life. Again she thought of those intense red eyes glaring at her. The stare had seemed almost like a challenge, as if the beast knew who she was.

“Are you all right?” Ralof suddenly asked.

She didn’t immediately answer him, her mind trying to come up with some reason why the dragon would look at her in such a way. But then she sighed, hanging her head slightly.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

Ralof shifted his hold on her slightly, obviously uncomfortable with her answer.

“Is it true?” he asked gently, as if the subject would upset her more. “That Imperial said that you… that you have amnesia?”

Ah. She had wondered if he would bring that up. Another heavy sigh left her lips, and she raised her head, gazing up into the slowly darkening sky.

“Honestly, I don’t remember anything before waking up in the cart with you.”

The man drew in a deep breath. But he remained silent as if thinking over her words. Then, “When the Imperials ambushed us, I was ready to die fighting, but then Jarl Ulfric commanded us to stop and surrender. So, we did. And then they tied us all up and brought us to the carts. You and that girl were already there, but they had you in separate carts. You were already passed out in the back of one of them.”

“Hm.” She frowned slightly. Then how did she end up waking up leaning on the man’s shoulder?

“You were laid out on the one of the benches,” Ralof continued. “You looked uncomfortable the way you were, feet resting on the floor and the rest of your body laid out on the seat. So, the Jarl moved you when he sat down, leaning you against himself.”

So that was how she came to be sitting up. The thought of the Jarl doing such a thing seemed at odds with his personality. Then again, she didn’t really know him so…

“I hope I can thank him someday for such a small mercy,” she found herself saying softly.

“Perhaps one day you can,” Ralof replied. There was a hint of hopefulness in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed by her. “You’ve seen the true face of the Empire today. How they just carted us off to Helgen for execution without a proper trial. You should head to Windhelm and join the fight to free Skyrim from their unjust ways.”

Skyrim? She had heard that General – Tullius was his name? – use that word before. Was that the name of the country they were in? A pit seemed to open up inside of her, that same feeling from before where all these names and people seemed familiar to her but… she couldn’t remember why. She thought of Maurice again and wondered if the girl had made it out of Helgen safe.

“Ralof,” she suddenly spoke, mindful of his hand twitching where it held her waist. “I… Well, it’s difficult for me to ask this, but…” She turned her head, looking up at him. He returned her gaze, his blue eyes questioning. “Could you… tell me what’s going on? And… what this place is?”

Her face was burning as were her eyes, and she turned her face away lest he see the tears that threatened to fall. It was uncomfortable for her to ask a complete stranger such a thing. But she had no one else to turn to.

“I’d be more than happy to tell you all about Skyrim,” Ralof said softly. He then let out a soft chuckle. “There’s no need to be shy about it. Not that I’ve ever dealt with someone with memory loss before, but still. Where would you like me to begin?”

Kamama smiled at that, a single tear running down her cheek. She wiped it away and looked back at the Stormcloak soldier. “How about starting with Skyrim itself?”

“Absolutely.”

And so they walked on, Kamama listening attentively as Ralof began to tell her all he knew about Skyrim and how it came to be. He told of a man named Ysgramor and his Five Hundred Companions who came from Atmora, the ancient motherland of men. He told of the mighty Talos who conquered all of Tamriel and created the Empire. He told of Cyrodil, the seat of Talos’s mighty Empire and the other provinces connected to it. He went into detail about all the numerous races of Nirn.

The sun had begun to sink below the farthest mountain in the distance, the sky steadily growing darker and darker when they came around a bend in the road. Ralof stopped talking and let out a deep sigh.

“You see that ruins up there?” he suddenly asked, pointing off into the distance.

Kamama looked in the direction he pointed, gaze falling on a high mountain. Close to its summit she could just make out what looked to be structures covered in thick snow.

“Bleak Falls Barrow,” Ralof went on. “I never could understand how my sister could stand living in the shadow of that place.”

“What?”

Ralof grinned at her questioning look. “We’re almost to Riverwood now,” he said. “Just a little further and – there!”

They rounded a bend and in the distance Kamama could make out a village. Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight.

“Come on then!” Ralof said excitedly. “My sister should be finishing up things at the mill for the day.”

They hurried along now, Kamama doing her best not to show that Ralof’s quickened pace was causing her ankle more discomfort. She imagined the man hadn’t seen his hometown in a long time, and she didn’t want to put a damper on his enthusiasm by asking him to slow down. Soon they reached the village, a single guard eyeing them as they passed beneath the archway built into the wall that he stood atop.

“This is Riverwood. My hometown.”

The contentment in his words solidified Kamama’s thoughts that he hadn’t been home in a while. He continued to help her along, taking a sharp turn left. They made their way across a wooden bridge that passed over a small rivulet from the river running alongside the village.

“Ralof?”

They stopped abruptly at the sound of the voice, and Kamama almost gasped at the man standing before them. Or more accurately, the elf.  
He was tall and lithe, his tawny skin setting off his blonde hair which was pulled up into a ponytail at the back of his head, showing off his pointed ears. His dark eyes were wide in disbelief as he stared at them.

What race of elf was he? Kamama thought hard about everything Ralof had told her, and hesitantly came to the conclusion that he was a – what was it? Bosmer? A wood elf?

“Hello, there, Faendal,” Ralof greeted cheerily. “Still helping out Gerdur with the mill, yes? It’s good to see you again.”

“Ah, well,” the elf began, looking at Kamama briefly before settling his gaze back on the Nord. “Yes. I still work for your sister. And it’s good to see you again as well.”

“Is Gerdur still at the mill?” asked Ralof. “I wish to speak with her.”

“Of course,” Faendal replied. He glanced at the mill just off to the side of the village before addressing Ralof. “But, um, she’s probably already back at her house by now. Finished up early what with the news and all…”

Both Kamama and Ralof went still at his words.

“What news?” Ralof inquired cautiously.

Faendal shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the wood in his arms. “There’ve been rumors that… the Imperials captured Ulfric Stormcloak.”

Kamama balked slightly at that, her arm falling from Ralof’s shoulder to rest on his upper arm. “Wow. Word travels fast, doesn’t it?”

The elf’s dark eyes focused on her, causing Kamama to shift uncomfortably. She wasn’t used to such a gaze. Hell. Just seeing the elf had sent her into a state of semi-shock. A part of her had been skeptical when Ralof told her of the numerous elven races. But to actually see and talk to one…

“Who is your friend, Ralof?” Faendal suddenly asked. “A fellow soldier?”

What? Oh, yeah. She was still wearing the Stormcloak cuirass.

“No,” Ralof answered quickly. “She was caught up in the mess at Helgen, and when we made our escape I had her put on something that would give her a bit more protection if we ran into trouble on the way here.”

“Oh.” Faendal was still looking at her though when he asked his next question. “What do you mean by ‘mess at Helgen?’”

Kamama and Ralof looked to one another at that. The Stormcloak seemed uncertain if he should tell the elf about what had happened. But why should he be? Wouldn’t it be best to warn everyone that a dragon had destroyed the village? Especially when Ralof had told her such creatures were supposedly only a myth?

“A dragon attacked the village.” She couldn’t help the words tumbling out of her mouth, and Ralof took in a deep breath.

“What?!”

Tearing her gaze from the man’s blue eyes, Kamama leveled the Bosmer with a steely glare. “It’s true,” she affirmed. “It swooped down out of nowhere and proceeded to lay waste to the place. We barely got out of there with our lives.”

“A-a dragon?” The elf’s eyes immediately went to the skies.

“Which is why I need to speak to my sister,” Ralof continued. “We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun. Last I saw the dragon was heading in that direction.”

“O-of course!” Faendal sputtered. “Like I said, she should be at her home.”

“Right,” Kamama nodded. She pulled herself away from Ralof, earning a confused look from the man. “Go to her,” she said firmly. “I’ll catch up. Which house is your sister’s?”

“It’s the one with a fence around the front and a single cow,” Ralof answered automatically. But then he shook his head. “I’m not going to leave you to hobble your way there.”

“Oh, please,” Kamama sighed in exasperation, resting her hands on her hips. “Time is of the essence, and you’ll get there faster by yourself than with me hanging off your shoulder. Besides, we made it here to Riverwood so I don’t think I’m in any danger of getting caught unawares by wolves or anything.”

Ralof stared hard at her for a moment, obviously thinking over her words. He still seemed reluctant though, and began to open his mouth to speak. But then Faendal suddenly piped up.

“I could help her get there,” the elf offered timidly. He shifted nervously once again when they both looked at him. “Like she said, time is of the essence. Hurry and go tell Gerdur what has happened, and I’ll make sure your friend gets there safe and sound.”

“But–”

“Get going, man!” Kamama huffed, waving her hand in a shooing motion. “You’ve already wasted enough time as it is.”

At that Ralof shut his mouth. He gave a deep sigh before turning and backtracking across the bridge. “You had better be right behind me,” he called back before hurriedly making his way down the road that ran through the village.

“He’s worse than a mother hen,” Kamama breathed when he was out of sight.

“Ralof has always been that way. Even as a child.”

She looked back at the elf, watching as he set the blocks of wood in his arms on the bridge. When he stood upright his dark eyes were studying her intently, shifting down to her ankle which she was being mindful not to put too much pressure on.

“Shall we get going then?” he asked though he seemed a bit timid in approaching her.

Kamama couldn’t help but smile at his shyness. “Ya know,” she began, crossing her arms beneath her bosom. “If ya find me a sturdy stick I can walk on my own.”

That caused the Bosmer to let out a laugh, the light timbre of his voice making a pleasant sound. “I could do that,” he chuckled. “But then again, Ralof expects you to be right behind him, and I think it would take too much time trying to find a suitable crutch.”

It was Kamama’s turn to laugh, and she did it unrestrained, enjoying the feeling it gave her. “Wow. Ralof said the same thing when we started heading this way.”

“Great minds think alike, I guess.”

They both laughed at that, and Faendal seemed over his hesitance to get close to her. Like before, Kamama found her arm slung over the taller male’s shoulder, once again feeling like a ragdoll hanging off of a giant. Though this giant was much slimmer.

The going was slow since Kamama finally realized just how sore her ankle was, and would wince and hiss every few steps. Faendal even offered to carry her on his back after a few moments of her struggle, but she quickly shot that down.

“I refuse to be forced into the role of a sack of potatoes,” Kamama mumbled grumpily, her eyes cast downward to her traitorous appendage.

Eventually they made it to Ralof’s sister’s home, the lone cow in the yard chewing its cud lazily as it watched the pair. There was a slight scuffle at the door of the building, and Ralof stepped out. A woman roughly the same height as him with identical blonde hair and blue eyes stepped up behind him. As soon as the woman caught sight of Kamama, she swept forward quickly.

“Aye! If I had known she was that badly hurt I would have stepped outside the house a lot sooner!” the woman exclaimed as she wound Kamama’s free arm around her shoulders.

If she had cared to look, Kamama would have seen the look of relief on Faendal’s face at the assistance in helping her along. Instead she was preoccupied with what was obviously Ralof’s sister.

“Please,” Kamama began haltingly, her face heating up. “I really don’t need that much concern over my–”

“Nonsense!” Gerdur snapped at her. “An injury is an injury. No matter how small you think it is. Ralof! Pick one of the beds and get it comfortable for our guest. She will not be up and about whilst she heals.”

Ralof stood there for a moment, giving his sister an almost bewildered look. She returned his look with a withering glare.

“Did the dragon’s roaring deafen you, brother?” she all but growled.

The man seemed to finally come to his senses, and he quickly retreated back into the house. And almost tripped over his own feet.

“Still needs to be led around by his hand,” Gerdur sighed though there was a touch of fondness to her words.

Kamama smiled at that, deciding that she liked the woman.

The inside of the house was warm and cozy, and Gerdur and Faendal helped her to one of the beds tucked into a far corner. The furs laid on top of it were a bit coarse, but Kamama sank into them gratefully. A soft sigh of relief left her mouth when she was able to lift her foot up off the ground.

Gerdur immediately set to work, carefully removing her boots and examining her swollen ankle. Kamama almost cried out in alarm when she saw the dark blue and purple bruises that wound around it. But the woman shushed her and proceeded to poke and prod at it. Satisfied that there was no real damage, Gerdur then proceeded to usher all the men out of the house, setting her son to heat up water so that Karessa could bathe. Then she proceeded to shoo the boy outside as well.

It was a little embarrassing at first when Gerdur helped her undress, but Kamama soon realized just how tired she was when a yawn came from her mouth instead of the protest she had meant to deliver. Soon she was cleaned up and dressed in warm clothes that were much more comfortable than the cuirass she had been wearing. Her ankle was wrapped securely in soft linen strips. Whilst washing her hair Gerdur had discovered blood matted in her locks and a nasty gash on the back of her scalp which she cleaned and bound with a length of clothe around Kamama’s head.

Finally finished, Gerdur allowed the men to come back into the house though Faendal was absent. In his place was another man whom Gerdur introduced as her husband, Hod. The introductions seemed a bit rushed and Kamama soon found herself forced to eat a large bowl of steaming stew. Which really wasn’t all that bad once the smell of it hit her nose, though she did burn her tongue a little when she tried to eat it too fast.

And all this occurred with Kamama scarcely moving a few feet from the bed. Which Gerdur promptly tucked her into once she was done eating.

“Now, get yourself some rest,” the woman said firmly as she placed another thick fur on top of Kamama’s already covered legs. “From what Ralof told me, you’ve had quite a rough time since waking up in that cart back in Helgen.”

A soft frown touched Kamama’s lips. She wondered how much Ralof had told his sister. Did she know about her amnesia?

Another yawn interrupted her thoughts.

She would think about it tomorrow. Right now her body was so heavy and the warmth of the covers was too soothing. And so she nodded off.

She woke a few times due to the dull ache at the back of her skull, her head buzzing with images of things she couldn’t make sense of. A few times she heard hushed voices on the other side of the small house, but she couldn’t make sense of what they were saying. A part of her wanted to stay awake and listen, but her tired body would not allow her to.

“Kamama?”

A soft frown pulled at her lips when she heard her name, but she opted to ignore it. She shifted slightly, snuggling further beneath the blankets. A heavy sigh reached her ears and there was a shuffling noise near her bed.

“I’m glad you decided to come with me.”

Kamama opened her eyes at the soft words. The house was dark, the only light coming from the fireplace situated in the wall her bed was parallel to. She could just make out a form lying on the floor just in front of her bed, and so she leaned forward a bit until she could see over the edge. Ralof was on his back, hands resting beneath his head as he stared at the ceiling. The light from the fire glinted off his eyes every so often, and then he turned his head towards her. They stared at one another in silence for a few moments as if trying to read the other’s mind.

Kamama could feel heat building up in her cheeks as they continued to keep their gazes locked. Should she say something? What could she say without sounding like a fool? She was thankful that Ralof had helped her escape Helgen. Hell. He had saved her from the dragon itself! Why would he be glad that she had deigned to travel with him?

A few moments later and Ralof sighed heavily once more. He turned onto his side, back facing her. A pit seemed to open up in her chest at the sight. The moment was gone. She had ruined it with her indecisiveness. Somewhere in the back of her head a voice seemed to chastise her, as if she was always doing such a thing.

A sudden yawn stretched her mouth wide open, a testament of how tired she still was. But she didn’t move from the edge of the bed. She continued to stare at Ralof’s back, eyes beginning to grow heavy, wishing he would turn back over and look at her once more. But he didn’t.

But that was all right. Kamama wouldn’t pressure him. Instead, she pulled her pillow more securely under her, mindful of the bandage Gerdur had put around her head. Another yawn tore its way from her and she put a hand over her mouth despite no one being able to see her.

“I’m glad I met you, Ralof,” she murmured as her eyes closed, missing how the man’s body tensed at her words. “And thank you for saving my life.”

*~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, each of these chapters are averaging about ten pages each. Which is awesome considering I have at least two hundred pages worth of material to work with. I've decided to break this story up into installments and already have three of them set up. And an installment for Solstheim in the works. This is gonna be huge. I hope you all will bear with me. I never half-ass when it comes to writing.


	4. A Daedra's Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summaries? I'm not too much of a fan. Let's just get right to it. Skyrim is owned by Bethesda. I had nothing to do with that genius.

Chapter Three

This was by far the worst day of her life.

Maurice stumbled over another rock, cursing the soft shoes she was wearing. How she had come to be wearing them, and her current tunic and pants, was beyond her. The material of her clothes was itchy, and she idly scratched the spot where the collar rubbed against her neck. It could be worse though.

A shudder passed through her when she thought back to the village she had escaped from. In all her short life she had never felt such terror. It had been pure chaos after the dragon had shown up. The screams and shouts of the people still rung in her ears, the memory of the smell of burning flesh causing her stomach to turn. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t shake the panic that was slowly building up inside of her.

And then her mind went to the auburn-haired woman she had found and been separated from in the pandemonium.

Kamama. Her friend. Who obviously didn’t remember her. Or herself for that matter. The confused and almost terrified look in the young woman’s eyes had rendered Maurice speechless. How could she not remember? Especially since they were in one of her most favored games?

The thought caused her to pause.

For indeed the two of them were in a game. Skyrim to be exact. It was one of many installments of a series called the Elder Scrolls. Right? She couldn’t be sure since Maurice herself had never really gotten into it. But Kamama had. She had played the game religiously despite it being a few years old.

“This is just perfect,” she grumbled to herself, rubbing her palms over her face. “I’m stuck in a game with the only person who can help me, but oh no! She has amnesia!”

An irritated groan followed her lamentation, and she kicked at a stone. She watched as it rolled and bounced along the road, frowning deeply when it stopped just a few feet from her.

With a deep sigh she continued on her way, mindful of the darkness slowly creeping in all around her. What else could she do? Staying put was out of the question. Especially with that dragon about and who knows what else. Nope. She’d take her chances walking and hopefully running across a village or something.

With that thought in mind, she hastened her step somewhat, scanning the sides of the road for anything that hinted at civilization. She walked for a few hours, mind going in circles over everything that had happened. Soon her feet began to get sore, and then without warning her stomach let out a loud growl.

“Oh god,” she sighed. “I’m going to die of starvation in a strange world.” Idly she began to rub her stomach, though that did little to quell the pinching ache she was feeling in it.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

She jumped at the voice, turning to her left. She spotted a large man dressed in furs slowly approaching her, a not so nice smile on his lips.

“Are you lost, stranger?” he asked as he came closer.

Maurice instinctually backed up. If she had learned anything in her life, it was how to spot someone who wished her ill intent. And the way this guy was sizing her up…

Nope. Not biting that bit of bait.

“Not really,” she replied nonchalantly. “Just making my way down the road and onward.”

He chuckled at that.

It was then that she noticed two other men. One was walking up behind the man in furs and the other stepped out onto the road a ways ahead.

“It’s not safe for a lady to be walking all by herself,” the first man spoke. He was still moving towards her, and Maurice took a few hesitant steps back. “You never know what kind of unsavory characters might be prowling about.”

“You mean other than yourselves?” she found herself snapping back. She immediately regretted her words when the man drew a mace from his belt.

“Exactly,” he growled. “Now, be a good girl and just give up nice and easy.”

Oh god, no. Could her situation get any worse? Her eyes darted back and forth between the men advancing on her. There was no way she could take on any of these men. And running wasn’t an option since one of them had a bow in his hand. So, she just continued to back away, keeping all three of them in her sight.

“I don’t want any trouble,” she began, raising her hands in a placating manner. “It’s bad enough I had to deal with that dragon attacking that village.”

“Ha! A dragon she says!”

The three chortled at her, making Maurice frown.

“No. Seriously. A dragon attacked a village not too far from here. I barely made it out alive.”

“Well, if you don’t cooperate then you definitely won’t survive after we’re done with you.”

She started in surprise when there was a vicious growl just off to the side of the road, and then the man with the bow fell to the ground. On top of him was a large, shaggy dog, growling and biting at him savagely. The other two bandits hesitated at the sudden appearance of the canine, but then the large man in furs let out a battle cry and charged the animal.

Finished with the no longer struggling archer, the dog turned towards the man. Almost too easily it dodged his mace, and latched onto his arm. The man let out a cry and began to wrestle with the dog.

Maurice watched in stunned silence for a moment. Talk about great timing. Then again, who was to say that the dog wouldn’t attack her next? She suddenly remembered the third bandit, and immediately she turned to him. But he was already hightailing it back into the woods, never sparing a backward glance as he fled.

A sudden gargled cry made her look back, and she took in a breath when she saw the dog release the man’s throat. Blood dripped from its maw as it turned towards her.

“Oh boy,” she breathed when it started pacing her way. “Uh, easy there, pup,” she began to babbled whilst backing away. “I’m not a threat. Just… just don’t attack please.”

Strangely, the dog actually stopped and seemed to study her. In fact, the way his head moved up and down, his intelligent brown eyes regarding her with interest, made her think he really was sizing her up like any normal person would.

“You are exactly what I’m looking for.”

Maurice stared at the large dog in shock. No way. No way she had heard him…

Quickly she looked around. Maybe it had been one of the bandits. Yeah. That was a reasonable explanation. But all of the bandits had either been killed by or had run away from the shaggy hound that had come to her rescue.

She looked back at it, eyes wide. “Did you… just talk?”

The dog snorted. “Skyrim is now host to giant, flying lizards and two-legged cat-men, and you’re surprised by me?” the canine replied condescendingly. Its head shook side to side, a deep sigh leaving its mouth much like a person would do when they were annoyed. “Yes. I just talked. And am continuing to do so.”

She had to be dreaming. That’s what was going on here. It was all a dream. Waking up in the cart, traveling to the village, Kamama not having any memories in her favorite goddamned game, the dragon attacking. All a dream. But if she was dreaming, and she was aware of it, shouldn’t she be able to control it?

Continuing to stare at the dog, and ignoring the growing sense of panic in her chest, Maurice willed it to roll over or to stand on its hind legs and hop around. But it didn’t. Instead it sat down and kept on talking.

“You see,” the dog went on, oblivious to the woman’s silent break down, “my name is Barbas. And I have a problem I think you can help sort out.”

This couldn’t be happening. Why wasn’t it doing what she wanted? It was her dream! She should be able to will anything to happen! And she wanted this stupid, talking dog to run in circles chasing his own tail! But no! He just sat there and kept looking at her. It was then that she noticed the somewhat worried crinkle of its brow.

“Are you even listening to me?” the dog suddenly asked her.

“No,” she replied in a deadpan tone. “I’m not listening because I’m trying to wake up from this dream.”

A sharp bark of laughter left the dog, and it once again shook its head. “Maybe I was wrong about you,” he mused to himself. “It seems like your mind has been touched by the madness of Sheogorath.”

“Nothing’s touched my mind!” she suddenly cried out shrilly. “I am completely sane! This dream is what’s touched with madness! Just you wait and see! Here in a moment I’ll wake up, snug in bed with my sweet little Oliver suffocating me with his cuddles! Wake up, Maurice! Wake up!”

Barbas watched silently as the woman began to sharply slap both her cheeks with her palms, eyes screwed shut as she continued to mutter to herself.

“Wake up… Just wake up already…”

“I hate to break it to you, sweetie,” the canine suddenly piped up. “But this isn’t a dream.”

She glared at the dog, causing him to duck his head and let out a soft whine. But she could swear that his mouth possessed a slight grin.

“How about we walk and talk at the same time?” Barbas suggested. “The sun will be setting in a few hours, and I’m sure you don’t want to trudge around in the dark. I believe there’s a village not too far from here.”

“If you’re talking about Helgen,” Maurice spoke up, “then that would be a no go. I just escaped from there–”

“After a dragon attacked and laid it to waste. Yeah, yeah, so I heard,” Barbas interrupted her. “But I’m actually talking about Falkreath.”

She frowned at the dog, not liking how easily he interrupted her. “How can I trust you?” she asked.

“I just saved you from bandits and you’re going to question my motives?” he shot back. “Yeah, sure. I’m hoping you can help me with my own problem. Still, I think it’s a fair trade since I saved your life.”

Which was true. He had saved her from those bandits. But he was a talking dog! Just that fact alone was making her question her sanity. And for her to be indebted to him? Then again, she would be just as thankful if he hadn’t started speaking. She loved animals anyway and a dog that would save her life was definitely a keeper.

“Come on now,” Barbas broke through her thoughts. “And check those bandits for gold or anything. I’m pretty sure you’ll need it.”

“I’m not going to steal from the dead!” Maurice cried indignantly.

“Then how do you expect to get a room at an inn? Or to buy food or new clothes?”

Damn it. He was right again.

With a deep frown on her lips, Maurice went to each of the bandits, searching them for anything useful. She almost gagged when she saw the throat of the man in furs. Barbas had nearly torn his head off! And the blood! She’d definitely be having nightmares after this.

Finished with her task, and holding a small pouch filled with coins, she turned back to Barbas. He barked once before setting off down the road. She followed after, and couldn’t help but think that this was the direction she had been trudging anyway. So, even if she hadn’t been approached by the bandits or saved by Barbas, she would have eventually found the village he had mentioned. Hopefully.

“What’s your name?” Barbas asked her after they had walked for a bit.

She eyed him distastefully for a moment, but resigned herself to answering. “Maurice.”

“Hmm… Never heard that name before,” he mused. “Are you from Skyrim? Or somewhere else?”

“Definitely somewhere else,” she muttered lowly. But then she remembered his earlier words about her helping him out. “So, what exactly did you think I could help you with?”

Barbas let out an exasperated sigh before answering. “My master and I had a bit of a falling out,” he explained. “We got into an argument and it got rather… heated.”

“So,” Maurice began, a smile slowly curving her lips. “You’re a little lost puppy?”

He snorted at that. “Very funny. My master is Clavicus Vile, deadric Prince of wishes. As you can imagine, he’s quite the important person.”

The name sort of sounded familiar, but she wasn’t as knowledgeable about this world as her, well, currently amnesiac friend. She idly wondered where Kamama could have gone to. After the dragon shouted them to the ground, Maurice had lost track of the woman though she could have sworn she had seen her running through the village at one point, hands still bound in front of her.

“Is your mind wandering again?”

She shook herself before looking to Barbas, the dog seeming less than pleased with her lack of focus.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I just… I’m having a hard time coming to terms with everything.”

“I guess that’s to be expected after nearly getting roasted by a dragon,” Barbas mused.

The sun had set completely by the time they reached Falkreath. To say that the village was gloomy would be an understatement. The place seemed cast over by an eerie and melancholic haze that caused gooseflesh to break out on Maurice’s arms. And the large cemetery tucked off to the side of the village didn’t help with the ambiance.

“So, what now?” she asked Barbas, a little unsure of where she should go.

But the canine didn’t answer. Instead he just gazed up at her, panting and looking all the world like any normal dog. She glared at him. Of course he would shut up when they were around people. Typical talking dog pretending to be normal routine.

With an annoyed sigh, Maurice made her way further into the village, stopping one of the guards before he passed her by.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said a little uncertainly. “Could you point me to where the inn is?”

The guard looked at her oddly, taking in her ragged clothes and Barbas at her side. But then he smiled pleasantly. “It’s just down the road a bit. It’s the large building with the sign that says Dead Man’s Drink.”

Talk about an ominous name.

Maurice smiled at the guard. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “And if you need to buy anything just head over to Gray Pine Goods. Solaf has a good selection of supplies and clothing.”

She almost frowned at his statement. Damn. She probably looked some sort of hobo, walking around in this chilly weather in nothing but thin, itchy rags.

“Thank you again,” she said brightly and carried on in the direction he had indicated.

It was a little awkward when she entered the building. The innkeeper looked at her oddly when she asked for a room, eyeing Barbas distastefully.

“I don’t usually allow dogs in my inn,” the woman said shortly.

Maurice shrugged. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I never go anywhere without him. He’s all I have after Helgen.”

The innkeeper straightened up at that. “You were at Helgen?”

When she nodded, the woman quickly rounded the bar.

“You poor thing,” she said in a sympathetic tone. “We had heard that a dragon had attacked it, and… Is it true?”

She gave the woman an odd look. How could such news travel so fast? “Yes,” she spoke when she realized the woman was still waiting for her answer. “It destroyed the village completely.”

“By the Eight! That must have been dreadful!”

“Yeah…”

“Here.”

Maurice soon found herself seated at one of the tables in the tavern, a tankard of mead set before her. A steaming bowl of what looked like vegetable stew followed suit along with a loaf of bread, and she was reminded of how hungry she was.

“You eat up now,” the innkeeper told her, watching as the blue-haired girl practically attacked the food. “And I’ll see if I have some extra clothes for you. It must have been awful walking all the way here from Helgen in such attire.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Maurice piped up after swallowing a bit of bread. “I have a bit of money and the guard told me that Grey Pine–”

“Nonsense!” the woman interrupted her. “I doubt you have that much money, and it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t help someone in need after such a terrible experience.”

And with that, the woman walked away, Maurice frowning at her back. She felt a nudge on her leg, and looked down to find Barbas staring up at her expectantly. No doubt he was hoping for some of her food.

“I don’t think so, pup,” she smirked at him, patting his head. “I need this more than you.”

Barbas let out a low growl as he lowered himself to the floor. But his wide brown eyes still stared up at her.

It didn’t take long for the innkeeper to return, a bundle of clothes in her arms. She gave the clothing to Maurice and led her to a room on the opposite side of the tavern.

“I’ll let you stay tonight free of charge,” the innkeeper said gently. “There’s fresh water in the washbasin so you can clean up.” Her eyes went to Barbas who had seated himself at the foot of the bed. “And I suppose I should get something for your dog to eat.”

“That’d be nice,” Maurice replied. As soon as the woman left, Maurice turned on Barbas, pointing a finger at the wall. “Turn around.”

“Seriously?” the canine whined.

“Dead serious.”

With a huff, he turned. “I’ll never understand you mortals.”

She didn’t answer him. Quickly she pulled off the tattered clothing she had woken up in this world wearing. She silently lamented not being able to take a shower, but did her best with the washrag and bowl full of tepid water. A sigh of relief left her when she pulled on the clean and much warmer leggings and tunic the innkeeper had given to her. There were even shoes!

“Are you done yet?” Barbas griped.

“Stop your bellyaching,” Maurice shot back. “And yes. I’m done.”

“Finally.”

There was a knock on the door, and Maurice immediately answered it. The innkeeper smiled pleasantly at her, another tankard of mead in one hand and a plate with a large cut of uncooked meat in the other.

“Here you go,” the woman said as she handed the items to her. “I’ll leave you to get some proper rest. Come find me in the morning and we can talk more.”

“Absolutely.”

After shutting the door once more, Maurice turned back to Barbas, dropping the plate at his feet and causing the uncooked meat to roll onto the floor.

“Oops.”

But Barbas didn’t seem to mind. He tore into the meat, licking his chops after swallowing the first mouthful. “Thank you.”

“So,” Maurice began, seating herself at the small table in the room. “What exactly is it that you need me to do for you? I mean, if your master doesn’t want you, then what makes you think I can change his mind?”

Barbas stopped gnawing on the meat, turning to her. “My master is kind of fickle when it comes to taking advice from others. I tend to be the voice of reason when his ideas aren’t very… well, let’s just say that I got on his nerves. So, he’s kicked me out until I find someone who can settle our disagreement. That’s where you come in.”

She nodded at that. There had been plenty of times where she had been in the canine’s position. It sort of came with being a bartender. Sure, she had encouraged people to drink, but she had also looked after her customers.

“Now, since he banished me, Vile’s been rather weak,” Barbas continued. “He can’t manifest very far from one of his shrines. I know there’s a cult that worships him at Haemar’s Shame. We should be able to talk to him there.”

“And where exactly is that?”

“Ah…” He remained silent for a moment, his dark brown eyes regarding Maurice cautiously. “We’d have to go back towards Helgen. The shrine is located in a cave not too far from there.”

“You want me to trek all the way back to Helgen and further?!” Maurice asked indignantly.

“I may be the companion of a deadric Prince, but that doesn’t mean I have powers of teleportation,” Barbas griped. “Walking is the only option at this point.”

“Great. Just, fucking great.”

A soft whine came from the canine. “I’ve never heard such language from a lady before.”

“I ain’t no lady,” she retorted. She let out a sigh when she recognized the words that came out of her mouth. “I sound like Kamama.”

“Who’s Kamama?”

“My best friend,” Maurice replied automatically. She seated herself on the bed, staring at the wall blankly.

She had almost completely forgotten about her amnesiac friend. It wasn’t much of a surprise given everything she had gone through. But she still felt bad. She should be trying to find the woman, not arguing with a talking, demonic dog about helping him get back with his master. Kamama was probably all alone and scared and–

With a subtle shake of her head, Maurice pulled herself out of her depressing thoughts. She shouldn’t let herself fall into such thinking. Kamama should be all right. Sure, the red-head had a knack for getting herself into difficult situations, but she could also get herself out of them in the most unexpected of ways.

Kamama would be fine.

“And where is this ‘best friend’ of yours?”

She looked at Barbas, frowning at his curious expression. “I’m not sure. We were at Helgen together, but then the dragon attacked and we got separated.”

“Do you think she made it out of there all right?”

“Ya know, I really don’t want to have this conversation with you right now,” Maurice sighed. “You can finish your little meal, and I’ll go to bed. I’m fucking tired.”

He let out an indignant huff. “Well, fine then. Get yourself some rest. I’ll wake you in the morning.”

“No. You’ll let me sleep.”

*~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always loved the idea of Barbas. He was the ultimate canine follower. Invulnerable but annoying as hell. He actually pushed me off a cliff once. Was not happy about that.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Things will probably slow down a bit after this one. I'm working on the filler for a fair number of the following chapters which is a headache. But I have faith in myself. Though I still need a chapter title...


	5. Setting A Goal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for this next chapter. From this point things are gonna be a bit more spaced out since I have to put in a lot of filler for future chapters. But this story is still up to the forty chapter mark. I thought about condensing it but could not find a good point to break things apart. So, I'm just gonna plow ahead with it and hopefully it works out all right.  
> Enjoy.

Chapter Four

Kamama stayed with Ralof at his sister’s home. She had nowhere to go and wasn’t too keen on striking out on her own. Not that she could what with the state of her ankle. It had swollen to twice its normal size during her first night in Gerdur’s home. She had woken abruptly, immediately sitting up and pulling at the linens wrapped around it due to the discomfort.

Gerdur took it upon herself to watch over her, giving the young woman two more sets of clothing though Kamama had protested it. Though she was starting to become attached to the dark blue dress she had been given.

Ralof had elected to stay in Riverwood for a few more days, explaining that he wanted to be fully rested before setting out for Windhelm. Though Kamama suspected he wanted to make sure she was settled and healing properly herself. There was talk about sending someone to Whiterun to warn the Jarl about the dragon. Gerdur couldn’t just up and leave the mill, and Ralof was sure the Jarl would not be too welcoming to a Stormcloak soldier.

Kamama learned that the Stormcloaks were a rebel group opposed to the Empire. Their rebellion stemmed mostly from something called the White-Gold Concordant that had outlawed the worship of Talos, a man the Nords revered and believed had ascended to godhood when he had died. It was a little confusing for Kamama considering she had been told that Talos – or Tiber Septim – had been the one to establish the Empire itself. But she understood that the treaty had been forced upon the Empire by the Aldmeri Dominion when they had taken control of the capitol of Cyrodil which was the seat of Imperial power. It had been either sign the treaty or let the Empire be smashed to bits.

It had been a lot of information to take in, and Gerdur had been kind enough to give her some books to read so she could learn more. And that was how Kamama spent most of her days as her ankle mended. Gerdur or her son or Ralof would wake her in the mornings, tend to her ankle, and then help her with whatever menial thing she needed that involved her getting out of bed. Mostly she stayed beneath the warm furs with a few books to read, but eventually she moved outside, a chair provided to her with a small bucket she could prop her foot up on.

The elf, Faendal, seemed interested in her well-being as well. He would pass by occasionally, stopping to talk with her and inquire about her health. As the days went by, Kamama dared to think that they were becoming friends considering the ease with which they spoke. Though she was embarrassed a fair number of times when he would mention something that she had no knowledge about, and would hesitantly ask him to explain it. But the elf either didn’t mind or was too polite to judge her for her lack of knowledge.

Eventually Kamama asked Gerdur if it would be all right for her to move around on her own.

“That’s out of the question,” Gerdur said firmly, setting Kamama’s bowl of stew on the table a bit too forcefully. It was just the two of them in the house. Hod and Ralof were at the mill, and Frodnar was out playing with his friends.

Kamama frowned at the denial, looking at the steaming bowl for a moment. It wasn’t surprising that the woman was against it. It was easy to see why everyone looked to her for leadership. Gerdur was firm and decisive and possessed a work ethic that was astounding. If not for her family, the woman would have joined the Stormcloaks with Ralof. Instead, she had opted to stay and tend the mill and raise her son. And while it was nice to have the woman fussing over her in such a maternal way, it was a little stifling.

She looked back at the blonde woman, determined to make her see reason. “It’s not like I’ll be traipsing all over Skyrim,” Kamama began carefully. “I would just like to be able to see more of Riverwood. My ankle is getting better, and eventually I’d like to start helping out so I can repay you for your kindness. It’s maddening to think that I’ve been here for four days and haven’t done a single thing to compensate for my staying here!”

“Nonsense!” Gerdur shot back, seating herself across from Kamama with her own bowl of stew. “You help by keeping the house cleaned up, and you even help our little Frodnar with his letters. That’s more than compensating for your stay here.”

Kamama bit the inside of her cheek. That hardly seemed enough in her opinion. Sure, once she had figured out that she was literate despite her amnesia, she had begun to help their son with his reading and writing. And she did her best to help clean up after meals and such. She still felt like she should be doing more though.

With a sigh, Kamama began to eat her stew. She stared into her wooden bowl, watching the steam rise as she chewed on a bit of meat. She almost didn’t want to voice what was on her mind. It was a sensitive subject for her, but she would be a fool to think that Gerdur didn’t already know about her amnesia.

“I want to learn about this place, Gerdur,” she finally spoke, never taking her eyes off her food. She was aware of Gerdur going still, her eyes no doubt scrutinizing her. “There’s so much I still don’t know, and I… I can’t just stay cooped up here. Not when–”

“It’s fine, Kamama,” Gerdur interrupted her.

She looked up at that, catching the woman’s blue eyed gaze. There was a sad but understanding light in the older woman’s eyes that brought a slight burn to Kamama’s own orbs. Quickly she averted her eyes, bowing her head slightly lest Gerdur see her tears.

“Ralof told me about how you don’t remember anything before Helgen,” Gerdur went on. “And I can understand that you feel a need to go out and explore. But that is what makes it so much more dangerous for you than others. I love my home, but Skyrim is no place for a young lady with no memories of her past. I fear that someone might try to take advantage of you.”

Kamama smiled at that. She idly stirred her stew, pushing around the bits of potatoes and carrots in it. “I know, and I appreciate your concern. I really do.” Another sigh left her lips. “But I need to get out, even if it’s just to walk around the village. Faendal said he would make me a good crutch to walk around with, and that I’m more than welcome to visit him at his home. I just want to move around.”

The two women fell into silence, focusing on their food while Kamama’s words hung in the air. Thankfully it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Kamama had long since gotten over the awkwardness of the first few days, and had begun to feel like one of the family. Especially considering she had taken their son’s bed who never complained about it.

Instead the boy seemed excited to have someone new to talk to even though Kamama was ignorant to a lot of his questions. Gerdur had reprimanded Frodnar one night when he had gotten on the subject of where Kamama was from, making the young woman uneasy and embarrassed when she couldn’t give a straight answer.

“I’m glad that Faendal has taken such a liking to you,” Gerdur commented when she stood up from the table. “It’s good for you to make friends while you’re here. When next I see him I’ll ask him to make that crutch for you.”

Kamama couldn’t keep the smile from her face. She watched as Gerdur cleaned her bowl and put it away before heading to the door. The woman paused a moment, smiling when she caught Kamama’s gaze.

“I asked the shopkeeper here in Riverwood to find some more books for you to read,” Gerdur said. “Just simple things that explain about the different holds and the history of Skyrim. He said that he would have them ready by tomorrow. So, since you’ll be out and about you can go get them yourself and see some more of the village.”

“Thank you, Gerdur.”

True to her word, the very next day Faendal showed up at the house, a solid piece of wood in his hands. It was just slightly smaller than Kamama’s wrist and almost as long as she was tall.

“Good thing about working at a mill is that there is plenty of wood lying around,” Faendal had said with a grin as he watched Kamama test her new crutch.

Kamama couldn’t help but grin back at him. She studied the piece of wood more, noting that two spots on it had been whittled away somewhat so one could get a better grip. One was at the top whilst the other was just a foot below it. It seemed more like a staff than a simple crutch.

“Faendal,” Kamama mused as she ran her hands over the smooth surface. “I only just talked to Gerdur about this yesterday and yet here you have it already prepared.”

The elf let out a shy chuckle. “Ah, well, when you first arrived and mentioned using a crutch, well, I decided that it would be best to go ahead and make it.” He avoided her gaze when she looked at him. “I figured you would be needing it sooner or later.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded at her thanks.

Kamama gripped the piece of wood firmly around the lower notch, testing it a few paces before smiling back at the elf.

“You have no idea how awesome this is right now,” she said.

With that the two of them left Gerdur’s house, walking along the rough cobblestone road that led further into the village. Kamama looked around at the place, taking note of things she hadn’t seen before. It was a small village, one that was surrounded by trees. The river ran along the northern most portion of it where the mill was also located. Some of the villagers were out and about, and a few of them watched as the pair walked by.

Faendal explained to her everything he knew about the village. From how Gerdur’s family had settled the area generations back, and created a mill that eventually led to the town’s creation. He even explained to the best of his ability about the hold itself, and that Riverwood was considered Whiterun territory. And Kamama listened with rapt attention, not wanting to miss a single detail.

*~*~*~*

“If this works out, I’ll make sure you’re rewarded,” Barbas reassured as they made their way further into the main chamber. “Just don’t trust any offer he makes you… okay?”

Maurice frowned as she sidestepped a pile of dust. They had run into numerous vampires and their thralls inside the cavernous maze that was Haemer’s Shame, and Maurice was surprised that she had even made it through. Thankfully, Barbas was more than a match for them what with him being the companion of a deadric prince. Though there had been one vampire that had gotten hold of her arm. She had surprised herself by reacting with a well-placed knife to the side of his throat which had startled him enough for Barbas to come to her rescue.

She had known that there were vampires and werewolves and all manner of magical things in the Skyrim world. But to actually see it – and almost get killed by it! – was another thing entirely. To think, she had never really been that interested in the game itself. Now here she was following a talking dog and trying not to get killed.

And now here they were standing before a shrine which consisted of a statue of an individual holding up a horned mask. It was something of a disappointment at first. Especially since it had taken them half the day to trek all the way from Falkreath to the stupid cave. She had been worried at first that she would actually meet Barbas’s master. It wasn’t necessarily a good thing to get tangled up with the deadra, right?

So, Maurice frowned up at the tall statue, studying the rather plain looking effigy of the deadric Prince of Wishes. She had never been one for worship and such. What was she supposed to do? Just talk to the statue like Barbas had told her to? She glanced at the canine, but he remained silent sitting on his haunches and panting.

Sighing deeply, she looked up at the tall stonework, taking in the visage of the deadric prince. “Um… Clavicus Vile, sir,” she said haltingly, feeling foolish. “I have a request of you.”

She did not expect a voice to answer her.

“By all means, let’s hear it,” the voice spoke. “It’s the least I could do, since you already helped me grant one final wish for my last worshippers. They were suffering from vampirism, and begged me for a cure. Then you came and ended their misery! I couldn’t have planned it better myself. So, what’s your heart’s desire? What kind of deal can we strike?”

Talk about a winded reply. This entity apparently liked listening to the sound of his own voice. “I’m just here to reunite you with Barbas,” Maurice deadpanned.

“What?” the Daedra huffed. “That insufferable pup? No way. Request denied. No deal.”

“Ah, come on!” Maurice replied hotly. There was no way she was going to take no for an answer after everything she had been through!

“I’m glad to be rid of him,” Clavicus stated firmly. “Even if it does mean I’m stuck in this pitiful shrine, in the back end of… nowhere.” There was a moment’s silence before the deadra spoke again. “Well… perhaps there is a way he could earn his place back at my side. Maybe. But no promises.”

Oh god. Was she about to be sent on a quest?

“However… There’s something odd about you,” the deadric Prince mused. He was silent for another long moment before speaking again. “You’re not from this plane of existence, are you?”

Maurice took in a sharp breath. How did he know that? But then she mentally kicked herself. Of course he would realize such a thing! He was akin to a god in this world! A malevolent one, but still.

“Finally!” she found herself saying out loud. “You have no idea how frustrated I’ve been since waking up in this crazy place!”

“What?”

She looked at Barbas, the dog giving her a bewildered look.

“Of course he wouldn’t realize such a thing,” Clavicus sighed. “But for someone like me, well…”

Maurice frowned at the statue. “Has something like this ever happened before?”

“Woah there, little miss!” Clavicus laughed. “I’ll be the one asking questions. And my first one is… Where are you from?”

“A place where all this–” she waved her hands around “–is nothing more than a fantasy tale. I mean, my friend knew this world pretty well before she lost her memory but–”

“There’s another one of you?” the statue interrupted her. “This just gets more and more interesting. And you know what? I’m made up my mind about how Barbas can earn his place back by my side.”

“Finally,” Barbas groused next to her.

“I’m interested in knowing more about you. However, there is also an item I would like returned to me.”

Oh god. She was going to be sent on a quest. Go figure when you get dropped into a video game.

“Ya see, there’s an axe. A very powerful axe that someone like me could have quite a bit of fun with,” Clavicus went on. “I’d like for you to retrieve it for me. And Barbas will accompany you.”

Maurice laughed lightly. “So, you want me to find some axe and then you’ll take your pooch back.”

“Exactly. The axe itself is located in a cave on the opposite side of Skyrim, and that’s more than enough time for you and Barbas to get to know one another.” Clavicus chuckled lightly. “And when you return, he can tell me all about who you are and where you’re from.”

“Sounds like a plan, Stan.”

“Excuse me?”

She laughed again, realizing her slip. “Sorry. That’s something of a common phrase where I’m from.”

“Ah, well, all right,” Clavicus said lightly. “I was beginning to think you had gone mad or something…”

“That’s what I thought when I first met her.”

“No one asked you, mutt!” Maurice huffed, earning a laugh from the deadric Prince.

“Yes,” he chortled. “I’m sure you and Barbas will have quite the journey to retrieve my axe.”

There was silence after that last statement. And though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, Brittany could sense that the deadric Prince’s presence had vanished from the room.

“Shall we get going then?” Maurice asked, still frowning at the shaggy hound next to her.

“I guess so. Follow me.”

With that said, Maurice followed after Barbas, ascending one of the set of steps that led to a balcony behind the statue.

“How convenient,” Maurice mused when she spotted a chain lever. She tugged at it, watching silently as the spiked bars blocking the tunnel nearby sank into the ground. “So,” she began lightly as they made their way into the tunnel. “Your master is kind of an asshole.”

Barbas scoffed at that. “Imagine having to live with him since the very beginning. He loves making deals with all kinds of people, but it usually ends up badly for them.”

“Kind of like making a deal with a devil then. He’ll give you what you want, but there’s a catch.”

“Exactly.”

Maurice stopped abruptly, eyes going wide when they stepped outside the cave. They had emerged on the side of a mountain, the upper branches of trees slightly obscuring the view. She edged out slowly, looking down at the road far below.

“I’m not a mountain climber,” she mumbled.

“Oh, stop complaining,” Barbas barked. “Just stick close to me and I promise you won’t fall to your death.”

So, she followed after the canine. He easily leapt to each rock shelf, waiting patiently as she slowly made her own way down them. The height was a little disorienting for her so she talked with him to keep her mind from it.

“So, what’s the deal with this axe he wants?”

Barbas shook himself. “One of Clavicus Vile’s little jests. A wizard named Sebastian Lort had a daughter who worshiped Hircine. When the daughter became a werewolf, it drove Sebastian over the edge. He couldn’t stand to see his little girl take on such a bestial form. The wizard wished for the ability to end his daughter’s curse. Clavicus gave him an axe.”

She couldn’t help but smirk. “That’s harsh.”

“Yeah. Like I said, it’s something of a gamble when you deal with him.”

“Why doesn’t he just get the axe himself?”

“Because of our separation, Vile is now much weaker and can’t travel very far from his shrines,” he explained before mumbling lowly. “I guess he figured it was a small price to pay for not having to listen to me anymore.”

“Does he throw you out often?”

“No. Not really.”

“You could always just leave him,” Maurice suggested. “I mean, he can’t really do anything about it if you choose to live without him.”

“True, but we’re technically part of each other. Even though he was able to banish me, we’re both much weaker than if we were together.”

Maurice let out sigh of relief when they reached the bottom of the mountain. She dusted her pants off, mindful of the wind that had started to pick up. Despite the thick jacket she was wearing it was still bitterly cold, and she absentmindedly rubbed her arms.

“So, where to now?”

Barbas sat on his haunches, panting slightly as he looked around. “Well, I think the closest village would have to be Riverwood. After staying there we could go to Whiterun and get a cart. Last I knew, Sebastian was holed up in some cave near the city of Solitude. That’d be the best place to look first.”

*~*~*~*

“Faendal, please stop staring. You like Camilla, remember? Go make googly eyes at her.”

The Bosmer drew back in surprise from his seat next to Kamama, his tanned cheeks practically glowing with embarrassment. “I-I wasn’t…” he stuttered then jerked his gaze off to the side. “Oh! Look! A deer! Venison would be wonderful for dinner tonight!”

Sure enough, a deer had meandered out from the cover of the woods. Quickly grabbing his bow and quiver, the elf jumped to his feet and took off.

Kamama let an amused smile pull at her lips as he hastily strode away. The two of them had built a fast friendship, the Bosmer sometimes seeking Kamama out when he had finished his work at the mill for the day. Sometimes he invited her to have lunch at his home, the elf turning out to be an excellent cook. He had even started to show her how to properly dress game, and the best ways to prepare certain cuts of meat.

She watched as Faendal crouched low to the ground, flitting from tree to shrub, shrub to rock, all the while keeping a close eye on the grazing deer. Smoothly he knocked an arrow to the string, aiming his bow at his still unaware prey. He let the arrow go, and it struck the deer just behind its front leg where its heart was. Immediately the animal took off into the woods, the elf bounding after it.

A part of her was envious of him. She frowned at her ankle which was propped up on a stool before her. The swelling had finally gone down, but it was still tender to the touch. And stiff. Slowly she rotated her foot, wincing slightly at the pain the action brought.

Hopefully soon she would be fully healed, and then she could…

What?

Continue to live in Riverwood with Gerdur and her family? Even as she thought it, Kamama knew she couldn’t impose on them. It just didn’t seem right. She should be able to take care of herself. And she would. She just had to figure out how she was going to do that.

She had learned quite a bit in her time at Riverwood. Gerdur had done her best to teach Kamama how to cook and mend clothing, simple things that anyone would need to know. Though the woman seemed convinced the red-head should be doing something that engaged her mind instead. What that could be, Kamama didn’t know.

But would everything she had learned so far be enough to eventually strike out on her own? It seemed a little strange for someone to have to do such a thing. Could this be a sense she had retained from her previous life? That she shouldn’t have to move around? But she pushed the thoughts away, the back of her head aching dully.

Later on that evening, Kamama and Faendal were at Gerdur’s home eating an exceptional dinner from the deer caught before. There was the usual banter about the mill, and what work still needed to be done to finish a large order of lumber that had been placed a few days before. Kamama listened to them talk, watching the pieces of bread she broke apart soak up the liquid in her venison stew.

She frowned slightly, her thoughts trailing back to Helgen and the dragon attack. Gerdur had sent a message to Whiterun explaining what little she knew had happened, but there had been no reply yet. It had her a little worried. Wouldn’t such a thing be worth looking into? Or had something happened that would prevent a reply from being sent back?

“What’s on your mind, Kamama?”

She looked up at that, eyes settling on Hod who sat across from her. He was smiling slightly at her.

Blinking once, Kamama debated on her next words. She didn’t want to cause any stress to her new friends, but the situation with the dragon was weighing heavy on her mind. Frodnar had already gone to bed, and wouldn’t hear the conversation so she felt a little bit braver.

“Has there been any news from Whiterun yet?” she asked simply, turning her eyes back to her bowl of stew.

An uneasy silence followed her words, and she could imagine that the others were probably looking at one another. She could understand that it was easy to fall back into a normal routine after her and Ralof’s arrival and such. But weren’t they concerned about a dragon swooping down on them? And with Riverwood being so lightly manned by hold guards?

“Is that what’s been weighing on your mind lately?” Gerdur asked abruptly, drawing Kamama’s gaze. The woman was frowning slightly, her blue eyes hard.

Kamama immediately felt bad for asking. It was wrong for her to bring it up, to remind them that such a creature was loose in the hold.

“It’s not surprising that she would be thinking about it,” Ralof spoke up. “I sometimes find myself looking to the sky and wondering where that dragon could have gone.”

“Same here,” Faendal agreed. “I worry what would happen if it showed up. Helgen was a fortified town and it still got razed to the ground. There’s no telling what could happen should that dragon set its sights on Riverwood.”

“I know,” Gerdur sighed. “I’d go myself but there’s too much work that needs to be done. Dragon or not, I can’t just up and leave Riverwood during such an important time of the year.”

Kamama nodded her head at that. From what she had learned, the autumn season had settled in, and with it brought a demand for wood to make necessary repairs and such to homes. And the need for plenty of firewood for the coming winter season.

Still…

“I could go,” Kamama found herself saying out loud.

“Absolutely not.”

She almost rolled her eyes, but settled on giving Gerdur an exasperated frown. The Nord woman stared back unflinchingly.

“You’re not fully healed yet,” Gerdur went on. “And the roads nowadays aren’t safe to travel along like they used to be.”

“Then have Faendal come with me,” Kamama replied. “And Ralof can come with us a portion of the way.” She looked to the Stormcloak soldier. “You did say that you needed to return to Windhelm at some point, yes?”

Ralof’s eyes had widened at her words, and he shot his sister a slightly worried look. Gerdur was frowning slightly, but didn’t say anything. Coughing into his hand, the soldier set down his spoon.

“She does have a point,” he said slowly. “There hasn’t been any word from Whiterun. Maybe the courier didn’t make it there yet.”

“It’s been well over a week now,” Gerder sighed. “Surely he would have been there by now.”

“It’d still be a good idea to send someone as a follow up,” Kamama added.

“You’re not going,” the female Nord said firmly. “Your ankle hasn’t healed properly.”

“We could always take a cart.”

All eyes turned to Faendal and the wood elf turned his gaze to the table.

“I mean, there was a delivery made today,” he went on. “The cart will be leaving tomorrow to head back to Whiterun. We could ask if we could go along.”

Kamama smiled at that. She turned to Gerdur. “See? That’s what I call perfect timing. We should take advantage of it.”

Ralof laughed just as his sister began to speak. “Well said, Kamama. Aside from your ankle, I have no reason to object.”

“To Whiterun then,” Kamama said.

Gerdur let out an exasperated sigh. “Gods have mercy on us. Please, please don’t get into trouble, Kamama?”

The red-head frowned in confusion. “What?”

“You’re like a fresh little kitten. Always poking around and getting into things. Curiosity will get the better of you one of these days.”

Kamama chuckled lightly. It was nice to have someone so worried about her well-being. But she just didn’t feel right sitting in Riverwood. She needed to get out and learn more about this world she had woken up in.

“To Whiterun then,” Hod said in finality.

“You’re not going with them!” Gerdur snapped at her husband.

“O-of course not.”


	6. Whiterun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are summaries really necessary? I like the idea of keeping people in the dark about what's going to happen. Besides, the title of a chapter should be enough of a teaser to get one thinking. I hope you enjoy.

“You take care of yourself, ya hear?”

Kamama smiled at Ralof, taking in the concerned edge to his bright blue eyes.

“Don’t worry, Ralof,” she said gently, leaning on her staff. “It’s just a quick trip up to the Keep, we’ll stay the night at the inn, and then by morning we’ll be on her way back to the safety of Gerdur’s overbearing motherliness.”

He laughed at that, and she was happy to see that it was genuine this time. He seemed much younger for it, the harshness of the civil war falling away from him. With a sudden move towards her, the Stormcloak enveloped her in a hug.

Kamama went still in surprise, catching a glimpse of Faendal averting his eyes. She was unsure of what to do, not used to such affections. Ralof’s strong arms continued to hug her, warmth radiating from his large frame. Eventually, she relaxed, lifting her free arm and hugging the man back. She suddenly felt his breath on her neck and ear, the stubble on his cheek tickling her jaw.

“I hope to see you again,” he whispered to her. Then he drew away, a soft smile on his lips. He turned to the wood elf who was nervously shifting his feet. “Take good care of her, Faendal,” he instructed firmly.

“O-of course,” Faendal replied. He shook Ralof’s hand firmly when the Nord stepped up to him. “And you take care of yourself. Watch out for those Thalmor. They’ve been known to scout around in this area.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ralof muttered. He cast one more look back at Kamama. There was something in his eyes that she wasn’t too sure about. It was a pained look, as if he were considering something. But then he shook his head, offered another broad smile, and walked away.

They watched him leave, Kamama now leaning on her staff with both hands. Faendal shifted uneasily next to her before giving the woman a sly look. It was a few moments before she noticed it, and she frowned in confusion.

“What?” she asked.

“I think our dear Ralof has fallen for someone,” Faendal replied smoothly.

A deep blush rose to her cheeks, and Kamama scoffed at him, turning away lest he see her reddened face.

“Is that so, Faendal?” she shot back as she made her way towards the city. “And here I thought you were smitten with Camilla. Are couplings between males very common here in Skyrim?”

“You know what I mean!” the wood elf hissed at her. He caught up to her in a few strides, dark eyes glaring at her. “It’s obvious he wanted to say more to you, and if I had known, well, I would’ve given you guys more privacy.”

“Nonsense,” Kamama sighed. “Ralof isn’t interested in me like that.”

He couldn’t be. They hardly knew one another. And their interactions had never been more than just friendly. Sure, he was handsome and strong, had a good head on his shoulders. He was wonderful with the children in Riverwood, always happy to join in their games–

She suddenly shook herself, mindful of where her thoughts were going. The last thing she needed was to get those sorts of things in her head. She hardly knew herself anyway! Getting involved with someone wouldn’t be wise.

“The looks he was giving you the entire trip here said otherwise.”

She scoffed at him once again. “You’re delusional.”

He didn’t say anything more, merely walked alongside her. The way to the gate was a bit far, more than what Kamama was used to walking and the slight incline made it somewhat more difficult, but they eventually made it.

“Uh-oh,” Faendal murmured when a guard suddenly approached them.

“Halt,” the guard said. “The city is closed what with the dragons about. No visitors today. Only official business.”

“Not even visitors with news about the attack on Helgen?” Kamama asked firmly.

The man seemed taken aback by her words, looking over his shoulder at his fellow guard. He stepped back towards him and the two conversed for a few short minutes. Then the guard approached them once more.

“All right,” he said. “You can go in. Follow me and I’ll take you straight up to Dragonsreach and directly to the Jarl.”

Kamama and Faendal followed the guard, who seemed more than understanding of the woman’s slow pace. He even hung back to offer his help when they came to a set of steps.

“Thank you,” she said a bit shortly, the steps not being kind on her ankle.

“No problem, fair lady,” he replied, earning a frown from the Bosmer on Kamama’s other side. “Though I have to wonder why you would be out and about with such an injury.”

Kamama waved off his concern, gripping tightly to his forearm as they continued up the steps. “It’s been over a week since I escaped Helgen where I got this. Yes, I’m not fully healed, but the sooner I speak to the Jarl, the better. I can’t let something like a sprained ankle keep me down.”

“Very admirable,” the guard mused. “Perhaps after speaking with the Jarl you should see our local priestess, Danica. She has a way with the healing arts.”

They fell into silence after that, and Kamama took the break in conversation to study the city. It was really a sight to behold, and she agreed with the books she had read about it being the jewel of commerce in Skyrim. People were bustling about, and she could still hear the loud ringing of the blacksmith they had passed by upon first entering the city.

The guard led them past a small park with a large tree in its center. The tree itself was bare of any leaves, it branches reaching up into the sky like spindly fingers. Kamama idly wondered why they would keep such a thing if it was dead. But she spotted a priestess standing next to the tree, the woman stroking its bark and intoning something. Her attention was drawn away from the woman when she heard yelling, and she spotted a large statue with a priest standing in front of it.

She stared hard at the statue for a moment. It was of a warrior standing atop a serpent, his hands resting on his downward pointing sword. It was a rather calming visage, the male figure at ease as the serpent struggled beneath his feet. The man standing before the statue continued to call out in a loud voice.

“Talos the mighty! Talos the unerring! Talos the unassailable! To you we give praise! We are but maggots, writhing in the filth of our own corruption! While you have ascended from the dung of mortality, and now walk among the stars!”

Talos? She was a little surprised that a man would be out in the open, preaching about something that could surely land him in a jail cell. Perhaps Whiterun wasn’t as strict about the ban on Talos worship.

Tearing her gaze from the preaching man, Kamama noticed they had reached a set of steps, and she almost groaned when she saw the long climb they would have to endure to reach the jarl’s palace.

“Almost there,” the guard said airily as if sensing her unease. “Just a few more steps and you’ll have your audience with the jarl.”

“Wonderful,” Kamama mumbled as they began to climb the stairs.

They were silent once again as they made their way up the steps to Dragonsreach, Kamama using her staff and leaning on the guard’s arm to make it easier. It didn’t take as long as she thought for them to reach the palace, and she heaved a sigh of relief when they ascended the last step.

“Finally,” she sighed. If not for the breeze she would have worked up a sweat climbing all those steps. The clouds obscuring the sun were a help as well.

“Aye,” the guard chuckled, stepping back and letting her stand on her own. “This way.” He led them towards the large double doors of the building.

Kamama took in the large building, impressed by the craftsmanship of it. It was a definite change from Riverwood where everything was simple and made to endure rather than amaze. “Have you ever been here before, Faendal?” Kamama asked as the guards opened one of the large doors for them.

“Whiterun, yes,” the elf replied. “Dragonsreach itself? No.”

Well, this should be interesting then.

They made their way into the keep, and Kamama couldn’t help but admire the large hall with its intricately worked wooden beams. There were a set of steps before them, and just at the top one could make out a roaring fire.

“Impressive,” Faendal mused next to her.

They made their way up the steps, and Kamama reveled in the warmth from the large fire pit in the center of the hall. Tables were lined up on either side of it, and at the far end was a throne. Above the throne was the head of a dragon. Kamama stared at the large skull, her mind going back to Helgen. She had heard numerous people say that they thought the dragons nothing more than a myth, stories that had grown into a life of their own that influenced the minds of the generations. But there was a skull, a clear indicator that they had indeed existed.

Beneath the dragon skull was the throne, a blonde Nord seated in it. He was talking to a man to his left, a dark elf female to his right. Dunmer was the proper term, right? But then the female was looking to her and Faendal as they approached the throne, her dark red eyes narrowed. Without a word, the female drew her sword, catching the attention of the men as she stalked forward.

“What is the meaning of this interruption?” the dark elf growled in a deeply wonted voice when she was close enough. “Jarl Balgruuf is not taking any visitors at the moment.”

Kamama eyed the naked steel in her hand for a moment before looking the female dead in the eye. So, this was one of the other races of elves. She was so very different from Faendal. Biting her lip momentarily to collect her thoughts, the red-head stepped forward awkwardly. “Um, I was sent by Gerdur from Riverwood. She asked me to tell the Jarl that a dragon was sighted flying over Riverwood about a week ago and that it looked like it was headed this way.”

The dark elf balked slightly at her words. Then her red eyes narrowed. “And did you see this dragon yourself?”

Kamama nodded. “It destroyed Helgen completely. I wouldn’t have made it out myself were it not for a friend of mine.”

“You were at Helgen?” The dark elf looked genuinely surprised by this. Her eyes skimmed over Kamama, taking note of how she leaned on her staff. “Very well,” she finally spoke, sheathing her sword. “You may approach. The Jarl will want to speak with you personally.”

Kamama smiled briefly at Faendal before following the Dunmer. She did her best not to create too much noise with her staff, setting it carefully with each step she took. Eventually they stood before the Jarl, his gaze scrutinizing them both.

“So, you were at Helgen?” the Jarl asked earnestly having obviously heard her conversation with the dark elf. “You saw this dragon with your own eyes?”

“Yes,” Kamama replied with a frown. “The dragon destroyed Helgen. And last I saw it was heading this way.”

“By Ysmir, Irileth was right!” Balgruuf looked to the man standing next to his chair. “What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?”

The dark elf stepped forward. “My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It’s in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains–”

“The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation!” the man, Proventus, cut in. “He’ll assume we’ve sided with Ulfric and are preparing to atta–”

“Enough!” Balgruuf growled.

Kamama stepped back after the heated exchange, looking to Faendal. The Bosmer merely shrugged his shoulders.

“I will not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, prepare a detachment to head out for Riverwood at first light tomorrow.”

“Yes, my Jarl.” Without another word the Dunmer turned on her heel and hurried off.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Proventus said with a deep bow. His eyes flitted to Kamama for a moment before he straightened. “I’ll return to my duties.”

“That would be best,” Balgruuf sighed. He watched the man walk away. Then his eyes settled on Kamama and Faendal. A strained smile came to his lips. “Well done. You’ve sought me out on your own initiative and done Whiterun a great service.”

Kamama laughed lightly at that. “Ah, well, I’m about a week behind, sir,” she admitted self-consciously. “What with my ankle…”

“Nonsense!” he stood from his throne. “Please. Take a seat. The both of you.”

Kamama glanced at Faendal, but once again the elf merely shrugged and motioned to one of the long tables situated in the hall. Balgruuf joined them, taking a seat to Kamama’s right. He motioned to a servant who quickly scurried off.

“Have you had anything to eat since arriving in Whiterun?” the Nord asked them.

“No. Just some dried meat and fruit before we left Riverwood,” Faendal answered.

“Then let us have an early lunch then.” The jarl reached for a bottle of mead, pouring some into a tankard and handing it to Kamama.

Kamama accepted the tankard, thanking him softly.

“Now,” Balgruuf said a bit more seriously. “I have heard some interesting rumors about what happened at Helgen. Is it true that Ulfric Stormcloak was a prisoner of the Imperials there before the dragon attacked?”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. In all honesty, she had completely forgotten about Ulfric. But now she recalled his intense blue-green eyes staring at her. “Yes,” she said softly. “He was there as well as General Tullius. They were going to execute him and his soldiers.”

Balgruuf drew back at that. “An execution without a trial?” he asked in slight disbelief. “Surely you must be mistaken. The Empire wouldn’t just execute someone without a fair trial. Even if he did kill the High King.”

“That’s what happened,” Kamama sighed. She paused when a few servants walked up bearing platters of food. Her stomach gave a low rumble, and she blushed when the jarl next to her chuckled. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s quite all right,” he responded. “Eat as much as you like.”

Kamama fell silent after that, eyeing plates of cheese, bread and roast beef that were being laid out. There was even a large pot of what looked to be tomato soup that they portioned into bowls and placed before them. Without a care for those watching her, the young woman dug into her food.

They ate in silence mostly, Kamama answering a few questions the jarl asked her and vice versa. It was a pleasant lunch, and Karessa found that she enjoyed the Nord’s company. He seemed like the type of man who truly cared about the welfare of his people. However, when he asked her if she was from Falkreath, the hold just south of Whiterun, she balked and stuttered to find an answer. Thankfully she was saved from her awkwardness when one of the jarl’s children came up, a young girl demanding that she be given a dress she was promised.

“It’s still on its way from Solitude,” Balgruuf told her. Then his voice became firm. “Now, no more fussing over it. We have guests, so show some proper manners.”

The little girl sent a distasteful look in Kamama and Faendal’s direction. Her eyes settled on the red-head, but Karessa couldn’t tell what was going through her mind.

“They don’t look like nobles,” the little girl suddenly piped up. “Are we entertaining the common rabble now, father?”

Kamama’s eyebrows shot up at that. Just who did this little girl think she was?

Well, the daughter of the jarl of course. But still…

“Mind your tongue!” Balgruuf scolded his daughter. “They’ve come all the way from Riverwood to relay information about the dragon that attacked Helgen.”

“The dragon?” The little girl was intrigued now. She turned to Kamama, her light blue eyes wide in curiosity. “You saw the dragon?”

She was a little put off by the girl’s sudden interest, but decided to humor her. “That I did. It shouted at me and knocked me to the ground.”

“Really?”

Kamama nodded. “It was terrifying. The dragon was as big as a house with scales as dark as night and eyes that burned a hellfire red.”  
The little girl looked awed by her description. But then she turned to her father. “Will the dragon come to Whiterun? And if it does, can I go and see it?”

“Absolutely not.” Balgruuf was frowning at his daughter now. She huffed loudly at his reply, placing her fisted hands on her hips. Sensing her sudden change in mood, he added, “And that will be enough talk of that for now. I believe it’s time for you to take lunch and then get to your studies.”

“Ah, but father!”

“Get going,” he replied though his voice was a bit softer.

Without another word, the little girl walked away, clearly miffed that she didn’t get her way.

“Please excuse my children,” Balgruuf apologized. “They can be a bit… difficult at times.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Kamama muttered as she watched the little girl take a seat at the table opposite them.

“My jarl?”

They all turned to find Proventus standing near.

“Yes, Proventus?” Balgruuf asked.

“There is a matter that needs your attention,” Proventus stated.

“Very well.” He turned a smile to Kamama and Faendal. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

“Thank you, my jarl,” Kamama replied automatically.

“And I’ll also have a horse prepared for you,” Balgruuf said lightly. “You’ll travel with the guards that will be heading out tomorrow.” He got to his feet, letting out a soft grunt as he did so. “I’ll also have a room prepared for the two of you.”

Kamama blinked at that before raising a hand, making a motion that indicated her disapproval. “You don’t have to do that. We were planning on just staying at the inn tonight.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the Jarl replied. “It wouldn’t be right of me to send you all the way back down to the Plains District with your injury. And from the look of the clouds outside, it may begin to rain soon.”

A soft sigh left her, and Kamama frowned. “No disrespect, sir, but I came all the way from Riverwood like this and–”

“And as such, you should be allowed to rest in a peaceful environment. I know the inn can get a little rowdy at times.”

Which was perfectly true. Sure, Riverwood was a small town, but Kamama had been present at some of the more rambunctious nights of drinking. She had even gotten to see the blacksmith, Alvor, take his shirt off, much to his wife’s dismay, and dance to whatever song Sven had been playing. That had been an interesting sight.

With a resigned sigh, Kamama gave in. “All right,” she deadpanned. “I guess it’ll be all right.”

“Good,” Balgruuf smiled broadly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Well,” Faendal spoke when the Jarl was out of earshot. “This is a definite improvement.”

Kamama huffed, crossing her arms beneath her bosom. “I still don’t like it,” she muttered.

The elf sighed at her crossness. “Come on, Kamama,” he said as he reached for a piece of bread. He broke the loaf in half and held out a piece to her. “One thing I’ve learned in my time living here in Skyrim is that you never turn down Nord hospitality. They tend to take offense to that sort of thing.”

She eyed him critically for a moment, but eventually took the offered bread. “Fine,” she relented in a flat tone.

*~*~*~*

The trip to Whiterun was long. They stayed the night in Riverwood, Maurice getting odd looks for her brightly colored hair. After getting a simple breakfast the next day, the dog and woman headed out. It had been sunny at the beginning of their trip, but then dark grey clouds had steadily moved in. And judging by the breeze steadily blowing, Maurice was pretty sure it would begin raining at some point.

And it did.

Thankfully a merchant had taken cover to the side of the road and had spotted them taking cover beneath a tree. He invited them to take cover with him at his small camp until the storm had passed. The next morning he offered them a ride the rest of the way to Whiterun which Maurice gratefully accepted. The man had even refused the few coins she had offered him in return for his kindness.

Though grateful she didn’t have to walk, Maurice didn’t much care for the ride itself. It was now hot outside, the once storm filled sky clear and bright. The sun beat down on them making it humid and causing sweat to run down her neck and back which she was not a fan of. It also didn’t help that she hadn’t slept fitfully, her dreams filled with dark and ominous elements that she couldn’t recall. She had never had such a thing happen before, but she chalked it up to all the stress she had been under since waking in this world.

She rolled her eyes in Barbas’s direction. The canine had taken to lying down and panting excessively. Which was normal for a dog. But this particular one…

“Could you stop doing that?” she deadpanned.

Barbas gave a tilt of his head, a soft whine coming from him. He stared pointedly at her, and Maurice dearly wished she could slap the lopsided grin off his face. Sure, she could go on and rant at him, but she really didn’t want the cart driver to think her weird for talking to a dog. Which really shouldn’t matter. It just seemed a little awkward for her to go off on a demonic canine who was pretending to be normal. Just the fact that he understood her, but did the exact opposite was enough to have her on edge.

Reaching forward, she began to pet Barbas’s head. “Good boy,” she cooed, smiling slightly when the dog closed his eyes in obvious pleasure when she began to scratch behind his ear. “But if you don’t stop that obnoxious panting,” she gripped his ear a little harder than she normally would an animal, “I’ll make you.”

*~*~*~*

“I would ask something of you.”

Kamama tilted her head slightly at the Jarl. “Yes?” she asked.

“My court wizard, Farengar, has been looking into this dragon business,” Balgruuf replied. “I remember him mentioning something about the ruin just north of Riverwood. Come.” He stood up and began to head to one of the rooms off to the side of the hall.

Kamama stood as well, gripping tightly to her staff. She followed after him but stopped short when Irileth suddenly strode up.

“My jarl,” she said, giving a curt bow. “My men are mustering near the stables, and are prepared to head out.”

“Good,” he said. His eyes flicked to Kamama and he motioned her onwards. “Go on ahead. I must speak with Irileth for a moment.”

Nodding, Kamama continued on. She was a bit hesitant when she made her way into the large room, eyes studying the man bent over a large desk. He glanced up at her from beneath the hood he wore, brows furrowing slightly.

“Hello,” she said mildly. “The Jarl wanted me to talk with you about something?”

He frowned at that. “The Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?” His eyes studied her critically for a moment and when he looked back to her face, he didn’t seem all that impressed. “I really don’t think so.”

“Excuse me?” Kamama asked sharply. She frowned back at him, setting one hand on her hip. “Careful there, wizard. You’re about to step into your own Shock Rune.”

“What? I never even cast…” The mage’s eyes widened slightly when he caught sight of Balgruuf walking up behind the woman. “Ah, I see. You have some knowledge of the Higher Art.”

“Actually, no,” Kamama replied. “I’ve done a little bit of reading but will admit that I have yet to even try casting any spells.”

He seemed slightly disappointed by this revelation, but then shrugged his shoulders. “No matter.”

“Farengar,” Balgruuf spoke when he stood next to Kamama. “I see you’ve already met my new friend here. I’m sure you two will get along famously.”

“Indeed.”

“So,” Kamama said, lightly clapping her hands together. She gave the wizard a pointed look. “What did you need help with?”

Farengar sighed at her display. “I need someone to fetch something for me,” he said.

Kamama frowned slightly at that. “Fetch?” she repeated.

“Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there.”

What?

She stared at him blankly. His explanation seemed so familiar, so typical. Like déjà vu. Maybe she had heard something similar before she had lost her memory. That was possible, right?

“What does this have to do with the dragons?” she found herself saying.

The wizard seemed to perk up at her question. “Ah. You’re a thinker then. Possibly a scholar?”

She laughed lightly at that. “I wouldn’t say that,” she said awkwardly. “I just like to know about the things I get involved in.”

Farengar nodded at that. “You see,” he went on, “when the stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as mere fantasies, rumors. Impossibilities. One sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls outside his experience as being impossible.”

“You’re telling me…”

He smiled grimly at her comment. “Indeed. But as soon as we received a letter from Riverwood about a dragon being sighted, well, I began to search for information about dragons – where had they gone all those years ago? And where were they coming from?”

So, they had gotten the letter. They just didn’t do anything about it. That was a wonderful thing to know. What would they do if a dragon actually attacked the city itself? Maybe she was being too judgmental.

“What do you need me to do?” Kamama asked.

Farengar began to shuffle through the papers on his desk. “I, ah, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow – a ‘Dragonstone,’ said to contain a map of dragon burial sites.” He picked up a piece of parchment. He studied it for a moment before pulling out another, much larger one. Promptly he began to mark on the larger parchment. “Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet – no doubt interred in the main chamber – and bring it to me. Simplicity itself.”

Kamama nodded slightly, accepting the parchment when he held it out to her. Upon closer inspection she realized it was a partial map that showed Whiterun Hold and a portion of what she had learned to be Falkreath further south. Farengar had marked a position just northwest of Riverwood.

“You can keep that map if you like,” Farengar said airily. “I have plenty more.”

“Thank you,” Kamama replied. “I don’t think I’ll be doing any dungeon exploring for a little while, but I’ll definitely ask around about the barrow.”

“Gather all your information first before setting a course of action, eh?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, off you go then.”

She frowned slightly at his flippant dismissal, and she turned just in time to see Balgruuf shaking his head. The jarl noticed her gaze, and gave a small smile. He motioned her out of the room, speaking once they were out of earshot.

“Pardon my court wizard,” Balgruuf sighed. “He tends to get so absorbed in his research that he forgets his manners.”

“That’s fine.” She waved the piece of map before folding it neatly and stowing it in the satchel at her hip. “I’ll do what I can to get more information about Bleaks Falls Barrow and send you updates when I can.”

“Now I can understand why you came here even though your ankle is hurt,” the Nord said appraisingly.

She looked at him, blinking at the expression on his face. What was that look? It wasn’t bad but she wasn’t exactly comfortable with it. “Why do you say that?” she asked hesitantly.

“You have a fire in your spirit,” he replied. “You don’t let it keep you from doing what you feel needs to be done. Not many people have that sort of drive.”

“Ah… Thank you?”

He laughed at her uncertain reply. “And humble?” he chuckled. “Where did you come from?”

That was an excellent question. She could feel her face fall slightly, and she turned away from the jarl lest he see her expression.

“I’m not comfortable with this conversation,” she said lightly. She turned to Balrguuf, smiling brightly. “Thank you so much for your hospitality, my Jarl. I’ll just rejoin my companion and we’ll be on our way.”

She could tell he was a little put off by her reply, but he shrugged it off, leading her through the hall and to where Faendal stood waiting.

“Anytime you find yourselves in Whiterun,” Balgruuf said pleasantly. “Please, come by Dragonsreach. The company of fine people such as yourselves is always welcome.”

“Thank you, my Jarl,” Kamama and Faendal replied almost in sync. They looked at one another oddly before laughing.

“I’ll take my leave then,” Balgruuf said. He nodded once more to them before turning away.

Kamama and Faendal watched him walk away. The wood elf let out a deep sigh, and the red-head looked to him.

“Well, back to Riverwood then, eh?” he asked.

Kamama nodded mutely at the Bosmer, following close behind him as he made his way towards the doors of the keep.

*~*~*~*

The sun was beginning to become a real bother.

But Maruice did her best to ignore her discomfort. They were almost to Whiterun now. She could see the large hill the city was built on, the jarl’s palace making an impressive silhouette against the rising sun. It was definitely beautiful to look at. Too bad she wasn’t feeling good to enjoy it fully.

Barbas whined at her side, lightly nudging her leg.

“I’m ready to get off this cart,” Maurice sighed. “I think I’m getting motion sickness.”

“Don’t throw up in my cart!” the driver shouted back at her.

“I won’t,” she shot back. “I just feel light-headed and-”

“By the Eight!”

She looked up sharply at that, the cart jolting to a stop. The driver was staring at one of the fields off to the side, and Brittany took in a sharp breath when she spotted what he was looking at.

Was that… a giant? And were there people fighting it?!

Indeed there were two individuals circling around the large creature, taking turns to dart in and swipe at it with their weapons. A third person, a woman, was a little ways off, firing arrows at the giant as it swung its club wildly.

“Damn giants!” the cart driver hissed. “They get bolder and bolder with each passing season!”

Barbas suddenly leapt from the cart and took off towards the fray, leaving Maurice by herself.

“Hey!” she called after him, scrambling down from the cart. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Barbas ignored her, leaping nimbly over a low stone wall and bolting straight for the giant. He dodged the club swung at him, leaping forward and latching onto the giant’s leg. Maurice ran to the wall, watching as the canine was swung around like a ragdoll, but he never let go. The two individuals around the giant moved in, one of them, a large male, striking at its club-weilding arm whilst the slimmer female sliced at the leg Barbas was not attached to.

Maurice jumped back when she heard movement next to her, turning sharply to see the third warrior fire an arrow at the giant. She quickly glanced back, watching as the arrow struck the giant’s neck, and with a gurgled cry it fell to the ground. Barbas held fast to the giant’s leg, pulling and growling to keep it from getting back on its feet. The large male moved forward, burying his greatsword in the creature’s chest to finish it off.

“Well, that’s taken care of,” the woman beside Maurice said casually as she put her bow away. Her sharp blue eyes flitted to blue-haired woman. “No thanks to you.”

“Excuse me?” Maurice quipped back, hands on her hips. “You looked like you guys had it under control.” Her eyes went to Barbas. “Besides, my dog was more than enough to keep it down so your boy could finish it off.”

“Boy?” the large man asked as he strode up to them, Barbas trailing after him. He settled his greatsword across his back, bright blue eyes focused on Maurice.

Her eyebrows shot up when she took in the sheer size of the man. He definitely wasn’t a boy. Hell, he was by far the largest guy she had met in her entire life! He had to be well over six feet tall!!

A sudden wave of dizziness overtook her, causing the woman to sway on her feet. Barbas whined at her sudden behavior, walking up to her.

“Are you all right?” the man asked worriedly, taking a step towards her.

“I’m fine,” Maurice replied weakly, putting a hand to her head in the hopes that it might help her steady herself. But then her knees buckled and she fell to the ground.

“Quickly now, Farkas! Let’s get her to Danica!”

Maurice was dimly aware of being lifted from the ground and cradled against an armored chest. It was a little uncomfortable, but then her head swam when whoever held her began to move.

If she had been a little more coherent, Maurice would have noticed the two people making their way down the path away from the city. They hastily moved out of the Companions’ way, watching as the small group made their way towards the city.

“I hope whoever they’re carrying is all right,” Faendal said worriedly, eyes going to the shaggy dog trailing behind the group.

Kamama nodded at his words, but was frowning slightly at the retreating man’s broad back. She could have sworn she had glimpsed something blue on the individual he was carrying in his arms.

“Quickly, Kamama!” the wood elf suddenly called to her. “I don’t think the guards would appreciate us making them wait!”

“Right.”

*~*~*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this chapter being so late in coming. As I've mentioned before, this story had turned into a monster what with several installments already in the works. I even had to rearrange some of them so that they wouldn't be so long, averaging now about thirty to thirty-five chapters each with at least six installments. Crazy. And I still need to put in filler which is driving me up the wall.


End file.
